Shrek and the OTHER InLaws
by Gadfly
Summary: The story's setting is Shrek and Fiona's swamp shortly rnafter the events of the film "Shrek 2". The title rnshould indicate the premise. For the rest, please rnread the story ;) Oct 23 update: COMPLETE STORY IS NOW POSTED! Thanks much to all readers.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

The story's setting is Shrek and Fiona's swamp shortly after the   
events of the motion picture "Shrek 2." The story's title should   
indicate the premise. (For the rest, you'll need to read the story!)

This is my second "Shrek" fanfiction. My first one, entitled "Shrek   
and the Queen of Duloc", is also available through Fanfiction.Net  
or through my web site (please see my profile page).

I really, really value any and all feedback.

Fiona's outfit introduced in Layer 4 is inspired in large part on   
a design by Lunchpail from the concept art section of his excellent   
site. Please see his profile for the web site address (you'll  
find him listed under my favorite authors). He has also provided   
invaluable inspiration and feedback both on this story and my   
previous one. I heartily recommend his site, which highlights   
his own superlative "Shrek" fanfiction, "Ugly Ever After,"  
also available through Fanfiction.Net.

I hope my efforts give you some enjoyment. If they do, and it  
makes life just a little more bearable if only for a very short while,  
then at least I've accomplished something. Thank you.

**Copyright Notice**

Characters, places and situations from the motion pictures "Shrek"   
and "Shrek 2" belong to Dreamworks. They are used here with   
affection but, alas, without permission.


	2. Layer 1: Meet the Parents

Layer 1: Meet the Parents

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"One day Shrek's parents hissed things over and decided it was about  
time their little darling was out in the world doing his share of  
damage. So they kicked him goodbye and Shrek left the black hole in  
which he'd been hatched." -- From "Shrek!" by William Steig  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once upon a time, in the deepest, darkest recesses of a remote  
swamp, there stood carved into the remains of an ancient tree a  
hovel. And within the dread bowels of that hovel, leaning over a  
black boiling cauldron set into a fireplace, stood an ogre. The  
beast stirred the unholy broth of unimaginable ingredients as the  
flickering flames cast ominous light against its green skin and  
tall, broad frame. Every so often it would open a jar and drop in  
some other ungodly item into seething concoction ... eye of newt ...  
wing of bat ...

"Mushrooms!" Fiona spat in frustration, peering into an empty jar.  
"Rats! We're out of slimy back mushrooms!"

Fiona slammed the jar down and shook her head angrily, chiding  
herself for not checking to make sure she had all the ingredients  
before starting the stew. She dipped a long-handled spoon into the  
mixture and started stirring again. Then, suddenly, the ogress was  
taken by surprise as two massive arms encircled her from behind and  
she felt pressure at the base of one of her trumpet-shaped ears.

"Hello, Apple Strudel," her husband said as he kissed her ear, "I'm  
back!"

"Shrek!" Fiona gasped, spinning within the ogre's embrace to stare  
up at his broad, green, smiling face. "Good Heavens! You scared the  
dickens out of me!"

"Really?" Shrek said, and then sniffed the air twice. "Is THAT what  
ye call it?"

Fiona gave her beloved a reproachful look, albeit one not entirely  
void of amusement. He chuckled, gave her a quick kiss on the lips,  
released her, and then gave her a swift but affectionate swat on her  
fanny as he turned towards their wooden dining table, upon which sat  
a sack which he had apparently just dropped there on his way to  
surprise her. Fiona blithely smacked him on his own bottom with the  
spoon she still held in her hand -- one more stain on his worn and  
soiled brown plaid pants wouldn't matter much now -- as her husband,  
still chuckling, took the few steps across the floor of their simple  
and rustic but tidy home. In addition to the brown pants, he was  
dressed, as always, in an off-white shirt (in some spots more off-  
white than others) and brown alligator leather vest. A brown belt  
encircled his shirt just below his waist. Fiona herself, since this  
was a stay-at-home housework day, was also wearing one of Shrek's  
shirts as a type of housedress, the sleeves pinned up at her elbows  
and the shirt tail dangling down to mid-ankle. Designed for Shrek's  
large and portly but powerful frame, it hung baggily over Fiona's  
Rubenesque figure, but it still felt comfortable, and something  
within Fiona liked having something of Shrek so close to her. Over  
the shirt she had tied an apron upon which Shrek had some time ago  
playfully painted a rendition of the ogress's face, below which  
Fiona, with equal playfulness, had added a caption, "Trust me, I'm a  
Princess!"

As Shrek reached the table, Fiona swept a lock of reddish auburn  
hair that had fallen over her face back into place, cocked an  
eyebrow, and said, "Frankly, dear, you really shouldn't surprise me  
like that. You KNOW that sometimes I react by instinct."

"Ha!" Shrek guffawed, then reached behind his head and rubbed the  
base of his skull. "Tell me about it! Fortunately, I think almost  
all the bruises are healed now." Then he turned serious and added,  
"But ye know, Fi, ye really should be more attentive. It might  
not've been me. There might be ... villagers in the woods."

"Oh, c'mon, Shrek," Fiona laughed, "Haven't I proven to you yet that  
I'm MORE than capable of handling a bunch of rowdy villagers?"

"Yeah, well, NORMALLY," Shrek granted, "But if there's enough of  
'em, and they take ye by surprise ..." He sighed, and then with  
great reluctance added, "Maybe we should take your Dad's offer to  
give us a security team."

"What?" Fiona laughed again. "And have a bunch of knights in dark glass  
visors wandering around, peering into everything, and talking into  
their gauntlets all the time? No thanks! And besides, you'd hate  
it even more than me, having strange humans tromping all over your  
swamp."

"OUR swamp," Shrek corrected.

"OUR swamp," Fiona conceded with a loving smile.

Shrek smiled back. "Well, I guess you're right," he said. "Still  
... maybe I should at least get us a dog or something."

"Dearest, you worry too much," Fiona said affectionately. "Besides,  
we already HAVE a dog."

"Oh, please, Fi!" Shrek scoffed. "Ye call THAT thing a DOG?" Here  
he gestured to a corner of the room where a doggy bed was laid out  
and upon which sat a small fluffy white puppy, a bichon frise, with  
a little pink ribbon on her head. She was staring up at Shrek with  
more than a little trepidation. "It didn't even bark when I came in  
just now!"

"Darling, Puppy hasn't barked at you since ... the day we first got  
her," Fiona said haltingly, not wanting to dwell on memories of a  
day that had also marked the lowest point in their married life to  
date. "But I'm sure that if a STRANGER had tried to come in, she'd  
be barking!" Here Fiona leaned over and addressed the little dog  
directly in a voice that sounded like she was speaking to a baby.  
"Wouldn't you, Pup-py?"

Puppy shifted her eyes from Shrek to Fiona and immediately the dog's  
tail began wagging and she started panting enthusiastically. She  
barked once to acknowledge Fiona's attention. Fiona stood back up  
and smiled at Shrek. "See?" she asked. Puppy then looked from  
Fiona back toward Shrek and immediately stopped wagging her tail and  
resumed her look of trepidation. A little whine escaped her  
throat.

Shrek rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, then began unpacking  
his sack of several items he had gathered from around the swamp to  
stock their pantry.

"You didn't happen to pick up any slimy black mushrooms, did you?"  
Fiona asked hopefully.

"Slimy black mushrooms? Nope, sorry, they weren't my 'to do' list,"  
Shrek replied as he started sorting the items.

"Rats!" Fiona said.

"Those I got!" Shrek said.

Fiona looked back at the ogre, who was trying to hide a smirk. This  
time it was the ogress's turn to roll her eyes.

Shrek looked down at his stock and said, "Hey, I did get some moldy  
yellow mushrooms. Will they do?"

Fiona looked back up at the yellowed parchment page of the recipe in  
the leather-bound cookbook that she had propped on the log that  
served as a mantle above the fireplace. "I don't know," she said  
doubtfully, "it specifically says 'slimy black' here."

"Ahhh, trust me, ye won't notice the difference," Shrek said,  
picking out the mushrooms.

"Are you sure?" Fiona asked.

"Hey!" Shrek said, handing her the mushrooms, "Who's the culinary  
expert in this family, hummm?"

Fiona returned Shrek's self-assured grin with a smirk of her own.  
She had to admit that Shrek had, over his years of solitude, taught  
himself an impressive array of cooking skills using a ... DIVERSE  
variety of sources. She tossed the mushrooms into the stew and  
stirred it some more.

"So," Shrek asked, "how long 'til it's ready?

"About another hour," Fiona replied, taking a taste from the spoon.

"Hummm," Shrek said, tapping his cheek in mock contemplation.  
"Well, I'm done my chores for the day. What d'ye think we can find  
t'do for the next hour?"

"Oh, I don't know," Fiona replied, recognizing the intonation in  
Shrek's voice and trying to force innocence into her own. Then she  
turned to face him and asked stoically, "Parcheesi?"

Shrek smiled a knowing smile. Fiona couldn't help but feel herself  
doing the same. Then her eyes drifted up to Shrek's own trumpet-  
shaped ears. She suddenly started giggling, then quickly turned  
back toward the fireplace and tried to recompose herself.

Shrek continued to smile, but his face also took on a perplexed  
look. "What?" he asked.

Fiona giggled again, waving him off, and stirred the stew.

"Oh, c'mon, Fi, spill it!" Shrek insisted, his smile starting to  
fade.

"Well," she said, slowly turning back around to face him and trying  
to force herself not to laugh, "it's your ears."

"My EARS?" Shrek asked, confused. "What about 'em?"

"Ummm ..." Fiona tried to find the words and maintain a straight  
face, "you ... um ... hold them in a certain way when you get ... in  
that mood."

"Wha?" Shrek said, reaching up and feeling his ears. "There's  
nothing diff'rent about 'em!"

"Oh, it's very subtle," Fiona said, grinning coyly. "You probably  
don't even realize you're doing it. I didn't notice it at first.  
It ... uh ... let's just say it came with time and ... experience."

Shrek's broad smile returned and he rested his hands on his hips.  
"Oh, really?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Really, really," she replied, still grinning. She started to  
giggle yet again, and bit her bottom lip to suppress it.

"Well!" Shrek laughed, walking over to his large easy chair and  
picking up a rolled-up newspaper from the end table beside it.  
"Lemme just go visit the necessary, and as soon's I get back we'll  
see about ... shall we say ... adding to your experience."

"Oh, Sir Knight!" Fiona sighed, raising the back of her right hand  
to her forehead, closing her eyes and leaning her head back in a  
fake swoon. "What fair damsel could possibly resist such a romantic  
proposal?"

Both of them laughed then, and Shrek headed out the door with his  
newspaper. Fiona stared at the door for several seconds after it  
closed behind him and then sighed again -- genuinely this time -- as  
a contented smile played on her lips. She had to shake her head to  
break her reverie, and then turned her attention to the table where  
Shrek had laid out the items from his sack. One of the things she  
saw there was a pile of onions. She took the onions, all but one,  
and put them away. She picked up the one that she had kept out,  
sniffed at it, and then took a large bite out of the thick, crunchy  
vegetable. "Mmmmm," she moaned to herself, licking the juice from  
her lips. "THAT hit the spot!" She held the onion in one hand and  
continued munching on it as she put the rest of the items away in  
the pantry. She had just finished the task and was licking her  
fingers after taking the last bite when there was a loud knock at  
the front door.

Fiona uttered a short, surprised shriek at the sound as she spun to  
face the door. Puppy immediately jumped up in her bed and started  
yapping.

"Quiet, Puppy, quiet!" Fiona said to the animal. "It's okay!"  
Puppy obediently stopped yapping, but continued staring suspiciously  
at the door while a low growl rumbled in her throat.

"I hope it is, anyway," Fiona muttered to herself as she moved  
slowly and cautiously towards the door.

When she reached it, she pulled back a little wooden flap that  
covered a knothole, and then she closed one eye and peered out with  
the other. When she saw who was on the other side of the door her  
breath caught in her throat.

It was Shrek.

But something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

His face was pudgier, with sagging jowls that were now adorned by  
white sideburns. The spots on his bald head were darker and wider.  
He seemed more slouched, and even his ears drooped somewhat. The  
first thought that went through Fiona's mind was that some terrible  
magic had been worked on him.

"Oh good Heavens!" Fiona gasped, then threw open the door, leapt  
out, and grabbed the ogre's arm. "Shrek! What happened to you?!  
You look terrible!"

"Shrek?!" the ogre responded in stunned surprise at the ogress's  
sudden appearance and actions. He spoke the name with a brogue, but  
it was not quite Shrek's voice. Fiona suddenly noticed that the  
clothes he was wearing were not Shrek's clothes, either. The shirt  
he wore, although of a similar make and material, was colored beige,  
not off-white. The vest, also similar in style to Shrek's, was made  
of goatskin. And there was another significant detail that she had  
not at first noticed in her panic at his appearance.

He was not alone.

A couple of feet off to his side stood an ogress. She was dressed  
in a worn light gray dress with faded toadstool prints. She stood a  
couple of inches taller than Fiona and looked to be around fifty  
pounds heavier, with skin that was a slightly paler, less healthy  
shade of green. Her hair was gray and scraggly and unkempt. Her  
face, like the male's, also sported sagging jowls and her trumpet  
ears -- like Fiona's own, set a little more open and horizontal than  
her male counterpart's -- also drooped ever so slightly. But her  
eyes were bright and sharp, and were currently looking Fiona up and  
down as if evaluating her. If that were the case it didn't make  
Fiona feel very comfortable, for this new ogress's pursed lips and  
her posture as she stood there, cross-armed, didn't exactly emanate  
approval.

"I'm afraid AGE is what 'happened' to me, m'dear," the male ogre  
chuckled. "I'm not Shrek. I'm his father, Groyl. And this -- "  
here he gestured to the ogress by his side, "is his mother, Moyre."

Fiona looked in stunned silence for a few seconds from the male over  
to the female and back again. Then she noticed Moyre staring at  
where Fiona was still holding on to Groyl's arm.

"Oh!" Fiona gasped, releasing the arm as if it were on fire. "I'm  
sorry! I ... I ..."

"You're Fi-o-na, I assume," Moyre said with a scratchy voice that  
bore a bit of her husband's and son's brogue. She emphasized each  
syllable as if reading the name of a strange and unfamiliar dish  
which she didn't particularly care to try from a foreign food menu.  
Then she gestured to the caption on Fiona's apron. "PRINCESS Fiona,  
that is," she added, wrinkling her pug nose as she pronounced the  
royal title.

"I am," Fiona confirmed. Her own eyes then followed where Moyre had  
been staring at the apron, and she realized her attire. "Oh!" Fiona  
gasped. "I'm sorry! We weren't expecting anyone today ..."

"Apparently not," Moyre said, rolling her eyes. "Well, at least  
she's not trying t'wear the PANTS in the family. YET."

"Moyre, please!" Groyl chastised his wife. Then he turned back to  
Fiona. "I'm sorry, m'dear. It's just that ... well, we didn't hear  
of our son's getting married 'til we read in the papers 'bout all  
the goings-on at that ball ye had in Far Far Away. We were kinda  
... well, let's just say we'd hoped that ..." Groyl frowned at the  
look on his daughter-in-law's face. "M'dear, what is it? Ye keep  
staring at us like ye'd seen a ghost."

"Oh!" Fiona said again, trying to pull herself back together. "I'm  
sorry, but in a sense ... well, you see, Shrek said ... I must have  
misunderstood but ... well he told me that you two were ...  
deceased."

Fiona's two in-laws looked at each other, sharing an expression that  
the princess wasn't sure she understood. Fiona knew she had been  
stammering, so to make sure she'd expressed herself plainly, she  
added crisply, "Dead!"

"I KNOW what 'deceased' means," Moyre said irritably. "Just 'cause  
I'M a REAL ogress doesn't mean I'm STUPID."

"I'm sorry!" Fiona said, embarrassed, "I didn't mean to imply ..."  
Then suddenly she felt the rush of a different emotion. "Say," she  
said, feeling her blood rising, "what do you mean by 'a REAL og--'"

"So!" Groyl quickly interrupted, looking over the front of the  
house. "THIS is Shrek's home."

"Yes," Fiona said, noticing the look of what appeared to be pride in  
Groyl's face as he took in his son's handiwork, "this is our home."

Moyre made an odd snorting sound at Fiona's words, then added dryly,  
"Yes, dear, I'm sure he couldn't have done it without ye."

Fiona felt her blood rising again, and tried to fight it back down.  
"Look," she said to Moyre, trying to maintain her composure, "I'm  
sorry if I've said anything to offend you. I really am. But --"

Moyre waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Oh, tut tut." she  
said. "My apologies, m'dear. I fear we've gotten off on an awkward  
foot. Here..." she held her arms out to Fiona, "... come give us a  
hug."

Fiona hesitated. There was something in Moyre's sudden and  
obviously forced smile that made her suspicious. But, despite what  
Shrek had told her, this apparently WAS her mother-in-law. And so  
she slowly stepped forward and into Moyre's embrace.

Fiona remembered being told how some men would use the custom of a  
handshake not as a mere greeting but as a method to test the mettle  
of the person they were meeting by applying extra pressure to the  
gesture. That was how Fiona now felt as Moyre enfolded her in her  
arms. The older ogress squeezed tightly, causing Fiona to grunt  
softly at the pressure constricting her in the ostensibly friendly  
gesture. Fiona, however, wrapped her arms across Moyre's back and  
returned the hug with a tight squeeze of her own, and felt some  
inner satisfaction when she heard Moyre grunt herself. But then  
Moyre squeezed even harder, causing a soft, involuntary gasp as  
Fiona felt air being forced from her lungs. Fiona squeezed back,  
and again, heard the same little gasp from Moyre.

Before the contest could go any further, however, Groyl interrupted  
with some urgency, saying, "Yes, that's all very good, ye two, but I  
think it's MY turn t'greet our son's bride properly now."

Moyre and Fiona ended their embrace and stepped away from each  
other. Their eyes locked as they did so and it appeared clear to  
Fiona that they could read in each other's mind that this had been  
something more than a mere greeting. "There now," Moyre said. "All  
touchy-feely, just like humans. Ey, dear?"

Had Fiona only been human, she knew she would not have stepped away  
from that embrace uninjured. Fiona felt slighted by the comment,  
and was trying to think of how to respond without triggering an  
argument when she felt Groyl take her hands in his. His grip was  
firm, but Fiona didn't sense any hostility as she had with Moyre.  
The princess turned to face him, and saw a broad, genuine smile  
beaming down at her. Like Shrek -- and Moyre, for that matter -- he  
had large brown eyes. She was struck again with the impression that  
she was looking at Shrek many years down the road.

"My, our son surely HAS won a beautiful bride," Groyl said, then  
leaned down and kissed Fiona gently on the cheek. "Welcome t'the  
family."

Fiona blushed. "Thank you," she said. She glanced over at Moyre,  
who was watching them with pursed lips.

"Yeah," the older ogress conceded after a moment. "She sure is a  
looker." It didn't have the enthusiasm of a sincere compliment.

Fiona sighed in exasperation, and thought she could she could hear  
Groyl heave a similar sigh of his own.

"Yes, well, anyway," Fiona said, "would you two like to step into  
the house?"

"Why, thank ye," Groyl said, "I think that's a fine idea."

"Then please -- please come it," Fiona said, and moved to hold the  
door open for the two ogres to enter. As they did so she looked  
longingly across the clearing at the outhouse. She really wished  
Shrek would finish with his business so she wouldn't be facing this  
alone. She was surprised that he hadn't heard something and come  
out already. Then she focused her trumpet ears in that direction,  
listened hard, and heard it -- the sound of whistling. As was often  
the case, when Shrek felt particularly good about something -- such  
as what he was no doubt expecting before dinner -- he would whistle  
in the outhouse while he read and ... took care of his primary  
outhouse duty. Between concentrating on the whistling and the  
reading Shrek had apparently been missing out on overhearing all  
this unexpected drama. Blast him. And he'd complained about HER  
inattentiveness. If any villagers decided to attack now, they'd  
catch him with his pants down in more ways than one.

Fiona, with some reluctance, entered the house after her ogre in-  
laws and closed the door behind her.

Puppy was standing in the middle of the floor, looking up at the two  
ogres and barking at them.

"What's this?" Groyl asked, smiling down at the bichon fries with  
amused curiosity.

"That's our dog," Fiona replied, and then to Puppy she commanded,  
"Puppy, quiet!" The little animal immediately ceased its yapping.

"Ye call THAT thing a DOG?" Groyl asked.

"Looks more like a snack," Moyre commented dryly.

"Moyre!" Groyl said, a tone of rebuke in his voice.

"Well, it's not the type of dog ye'd expect an OGRE to keep," she  
replied.

"Puppy was a gift," Fiona said by way of explanation. She decided  
not to go into detail about how Puppy had been a gift from an evil  
Fairy Godmother who had attempted to break her and Shrek apart and  
send him packing alone back to his swamp. Fiona feared she could  
guess which side Moyre would take. But Puppy couldn't help her  
origins any more than Fiona could help hers, although that appeared  
to be a concept that her mother-in-law was having problems  
accepting. Fiona sighed. Well, Shrek and her own father had not  
exactly gotten along during their initial meeting and that infamous  
first dinner. But Shrek had, she had come to realize now with time  
to reflect more objectively on that terrible day, at least tried.  
And so now that the shoe was on the other foot, Fiona owed as much  
to him. At least in this case she had home court advantage.  
Speaking of which, she realized it was now time to play the hostess.  
Heaven knew if she could get THAT right.

Aside from the wooden dinner chairs, the main room only had two  
pieces of furniture designed to sit on; Shrek's beloved, alligator-  
skin upholstered easy chair and a much more recent addition, a large  
padded rocking chair sitting beside it that Fiona used. They had  
acquired the newer chair second-hand in a post-hibernation yard sale  
from the Three Bears. It was a little worn and had a porridge stain  
on one arm, but was very comfortable; to Fiona it felt just right.

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the two comfortable  
chairs. As her in-laws did so she explained, "Shrek should be here  
momentarily. He's -- um -- indisposed right now."

"Oh, really, dear," Moyre said, "you don't have t'use such human  
euphemisms around us. If our son's taking a dump, just say so!"

"Moyre, please!" Groyl said.

"I'm sorry," Moyre said, although the sincerity of her sorrow was  
questionable, "I know Fiona's a ... late bloomer, if that's a way  
t'put it ... but I just thought she'd like t'know that ogres like  
t'be more direct and forthright than your common human."

At this point Fiona was actually trying to fight down some things  
that she would like to say forthrightly. She eventually did say, in  
a voice becoming more taught, "Very well Moyre -- do I call you  
Moyre?"

"That'll do, Fiona," she replied. "That'll do."

"Very well, Moyre. To put it directly, yes, your son is taking a  
dump. He should be back soon. Actually, when he returns, we were  
planning to --" -- no, Fiona decided, she wasn't going to be THAT  
direct. Instead, she gestured to the simmering cauldron in the  
fireplace and concluded, "-- have dinner. I hope you're planning  
on joining us. It's Odd Ends Stew."

"That sounds wonderful, dear," Groyl said, then turning to his wife,  
"doesn't it, Moyre?"

Before answering it, Moyre looked up at Fiona. "Who cooked it?"

"I did," Fiona answered, a bit of pride in her voice.

Moyre smiled a peculiar little smile. "Oh, yes, then," she replied,  
"I wouldn't miss it."

"Yes, well," Fiona said, "Good, then. Uh, can I get either of you  
something to drink in the mean time? How about some tea?"

The two ogres shared an odd look.

"What?" Fiona asked as a greater measure of impatience blended in  
with her general feeling of anxiety.

"I'm sorry, dear," Groyl said, "but it's been a long trip and --  
well, d'ye have something a wee bit more --"

"A wee bit stronger than that hot flavored water that humans think  
so much of," Moyre finished for him.

"Oh," Fiona said. "Well, we do have some Ograrian Ale."

"That'd do nicely," Groyl smiled. "If it's not too much trouble."

"No, not at all," Fiona said, and went over to the pantry. A moment  
later she returned with three wooden mugs and a large brown glass  
jug. She set the mugs on the end table between the chairs, uncorked  
the jug with a pop, and then poured its dark brown liquid contents  
into them. Then all three ogres picked up their mugs.

"You DRINK, Fiona?" Moyre asked, sounding a bit surprised.

"Occasionally," Fiona said aloud, which she thought would better  
impress her mother-in-law than a more precise reply like, 'Almost  
never because the last time I tried this I threw up.'

All three ogres were in the midst of drinking from their mugs when  
Shrek's voice boomed from outside as he made his way back across the  
clearing from the outhouse. "Look out, Princess!" he called, "Your  
love machine is on his way, and his engine is revving!"

Fiona and her in-laws all did spit-takes.

"Uhhhh ... excuse me," a deeply blushing Fiona said shyly as she sat  
down her mug, wiped off her mouth, and headed toward the door. She  
reached it at the same moment Shrek opened it.

Shrek grinned to see Fiona meeting him at the doorway. "Anxious,  
are we?" he asked, mischievously raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, honey," Fiona said uneasily, forcing her own grin, "we have  
company." She turned toward Groyl and Moyre, who were standing up  
from the chairs and looking over at their son, odd looks of  
discomfort and anticipation on their faces. "It seems your parents  
are here!"

Shrek followed Fiona's gesture, and beheld his parents. The broad  
grin that had been adorning his face quickly faded, replaced by a  
look of near shock.

"You can imagine that this was quite a surprise to ME," Fiona  
continued, forcing a laugh; she had not yet looked back to see her  
husband's changed expression, "since I had thought -- although I'm  
sure I must be mistaken -- that you told me that they were DEAD."  
Fiona spoke the last word through clenched teeth as she at last  
turned back and looked up into Shrek's face. His shocked, pale  
expression took her by surprise, and her brow knitted in confusion.

After a moment of awkward silence, Shrek looked back down from his  
parents to his wife. "I'm sorry, Fi," he said, his voice tinged  
with a peculiar mixture of anger and sadness. "But it wasn't as big  
a fib as ye might be thinking. 'Cause t'me ..." here he looked back  
over at his parents, "... they ARE dead."


	3. Layer 2: Typical

Layer 2: Typical

Not far from Shrek and Fiona's swamp, past hill and over dale, over  
a river and through some woods, sat the small human village of  
Typical. Inside the local tavern, several Typical villagers sat at  
the bar, nursing mugs of ale and stout and low-carb beer. At the  
middle of this group sat a balding middle-aged man more than a  
bit stout himself of average looks and above-average surliness of  
character named Geremiah Feldgud. Feldgud drained his mug, banged it  
down on the bar, and then said with resolve, "We've got to do  
something about this ogre problem. NOW."

"Why the hurry, Ger?" an even stouter fellow sitting beside him  
asked. "The ogre's lived around here for YEARS."

"It's not HIM," Feldgud said. He paused for a moment, and then  
concluded in an ominous tone, "It's HER."

"'Her'?" another villager echoed. "You mean the ogress?"

"No, I mean the little white fleabag they've got living with them  
now," Feldgud replied snidely. "Of COURSE I mean the ogress!"

"What's your problem with her?" yet another villager asked. "What's  
one more ogre?"

"That's just it!" Feldgud said, his blood rising. "What do you  
THINK you'll get when you take that ogre and that ogress and stick  
them together in that shack in that swamp?"

The dozen or so villagers at the bar all traded befuddled looks with  
each other for several seconds. Eventually one ventured, "Domestic  
bliss?"

"NO, you IDIOTS!" Feldgud blurted, slapping his forehead in  
exasperation. "BABY OGRES! At least with the lone ogre we were  
able to maintain a sense of equilibrium "

Feldgud paused when he saw the dull blank faces staring back at him.

"Of BALANCE," he said.

Now the villagers all said, "Oh!" and nodded in comprehension.

Feldgud shook his head impatiently, then continued, "When it was  
just the male ogre, we were able to keep him in check with raids  
onto his territory "

"What?" one of the villagers asked. "You mean those times when we'd  
get drunk and stagger over there with torches and pitchforks and  
he'd chase us back out again?"

"Those were strategic withdrawals, and we weren't ALWAYS drunk!"  
Feldgud retorted. "But the point is, it kept him from terrorizing  
our village any more than he already has!"

"But frankly, Ger," a villager said, "I don't recall him EVER coming  
over to our village and terrorizing us."

"On the other hand," another villager countered, "I DID hear from  
the cousin of a friend of a friend that his wife's brother's niece  
once saw a shadow at her window for a couple of seconds one night.   
It was probably a tree branch, although they thought it was a  
prowler, but I guess that maybe it MIGHT have been the ogre!"

"Really?" The first villager asked.

"Really, really," the second replied.

"Well, that's good enough for me!"

The villagers all raised a roar against the ogre.

"And look now!" Feldgud increased his intensity to match the  
increasingly boisterous crowd, "Now the beast has a MATE! Who knows  
HOW many little oglets they'll be able to hatch at one time, or how  
quickly they'll mature! In no time at all Typical could be  
endangered not by just ONE such brute, but DOZENS!"

But then one of the villagers said, "Actually, I've heard that  
they're pretty much like us regarding the birth and aging of their  
offspring. And also that, aside from the obvious physical and a few  
other benign differences, they're mostly like us in other ways as  
well. Maybe we could learn to live side-by-side with them in a  
celebration of tolerance and diversity!"

The villager who spoke looked around him for reactions, but all he  
could see were faces staring down at him with incredulous contempt.

"And you call yourself a Typical villager!" Feldgud spat with  
disgust.

The villager blushed and looked down into his beer. "I'm so  
ashamed," he moaned.

"PEOPLE!" Feldgud called, his voice now booming, "Are we going to  
stand for this? Having one ogre so close has been bad enough! But  
NOW, NOW are we going to stand idly by and allow this this  
unsightly UNION of two of nature's MISTAKES to exist right at our  
DOORSTEP? This is an AFFRONT, I tell you! An AFFRONT to the  
traditions and sensibilities of our Typical community and our  
Typical mores and values! If we tolerate this so-called marriage of  
abominations allow families of these hideous, ugly beasts free  
reign in our swamps and woods then what's next? Fairies in our  
gardens! Gnomes in our yards! NO, I say! We must nip this in  
the bud NOW! So tell me ... ARE WE GOING TO STAND FOR THIS!"

"NO!" one of the villagers shouted.

"NO!" a loud chorus of villagers echoed enthusiastically.

"ARE WE GOING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!" Feldgud called.

"No," came a deep male voice from the tavern's doorway.

"NO!" a loud chorus of villagers echoed enthusiastically.

"Whaaa " Feldgud stammered, perturbed and deflated, as he turned  
toward the tavern doorway. Standing there was a tall man of broad  
chest and muscular build and sporting a thick beard of some four  
inches depth, mostly black but streaked with gray, especially near  
the corners of his mouth. He was dressed as commonly as the other  
villagers, with one important distinction; pinned to his shirt over  
his heart was a six-pointed tin star.

"It's that new sheriff!" the villager beside Feldgud said in a  
fretful whisper.

"Good deduction, Sherlock," Feldgud whispered back sarcastically.

The other villagers at the bar also turned and noticed the tall,  
dark, imposing figure astride the doorway, and each in turn fell  
quiet. Soon the entire bar was cloaked in silence, except for an  
occasional cough and the tick-tock of the coo-coo clock on the wall.   
After a moment the clock's big hand moved up into the 12-position.   
The clock's little door opened and the small wooden coo-coo bird  
appeared in its doorway. The bird was about to sound the hour, but  
noticing the scene before it thought better and went back inside the  
clock instead, shutting the little door behind it.

The sheriff stood still, but his dark eyes slowly traversed the  
room, taking everything in. After a few more moments he began  
taking long, slow strides into the tavern and across its floor, his  
large black leather boots making loud clopping sounds with each step  
on the wooden floorboards. He eventually stopped in the middle of  
the room, placed his hands on his hips, and again looked around at  
the many tense faces. When he spoke it was with a deep, commanding  
voice, absent of emotion in itself, but capable of invoking fear and  
tepidity in those that heard it.

"There will be no vigilantism on my watch," he announced. "No  
pitchforks. No torches. I've been hired to make sure that things  
stay quiet here. They shall."

"But what about the ogres!" Feldgud asked with surprising boldness.

The sheriff who had been speaking to no one in particular now  
focused a burning stare directly at Feldgud on his seat at the bar.   
The stare spanned several seconds during which the other  
villagers seated at the bar all slowly slid off their seats and  
timidly slunk off to the sides.

"What about them?" the sheriff retorted. "The same goes for them as  
for you if they cause trouble, they will answer to ME. Do you  
have a problem with that, Feldgud?"

Feldgud blushed. He didn't recall being introduced to the sheriff  
before. "H-how did you know my name?" he stammered.

"When I took this job I made it my business to familiarize myself  
with all known rabble-rousers and troublemakers. Your file happened  
to appear under both categories."

"Why?" Feldgud asked with renewed bravado. "Because I stand up  
against threats to the Typical way of life?"

There was a communal gasp from the tavern crowd, then all eyes  
turned to the sheriff in dread anticipation. The sheriff just  
continued focusing his hawk-like stare at Feldgud for several  
moments, then a mirthless smile crept to the corner of his mouth.   
Oddly, it did not make him look any less foreboding; in fact, it  
seemed to have the opposite effect. The sheriff then crossed his  
arms and asked Feldgud, "So ... have you heard either of these ogres  
actually issue a threat?"

"Their very PRESENCE is a threat!" Feldgud said. "How can we be  
expected to live so close to such monsters and be able to go to  
sleep with both eyes shut at night? Think of our children!"

"Oh? And exactly how many children have been stolen away by these  
terrible 'monsters'? Eh?"

Feldgud just stared back at the sheriff for a moment, then  
responded, "It's only because we are able to make them FEAR us with  
our raids that they don't DARE try anything so overt!"

"Fascinating logic, Feldgud," the sheriff mocked. "But have you  
ever even CONSIDERED an alternative one of simple co-existence?   
A lot of the people in Duloc and Far Far Away, once they got to know  
these particular ogres, actually ended up thinking rather well of  
them."

"I don't CARE what the dunces in Duloc or the freaks out in Fa Fa  
Land think!" Feldgud spat. "We are simple Typical villagers who  
have to actually LIVE day in and day out downwind of those stinking  
ogres and their detestable swamp " suddenly Feldgud stopped, his  
eyes growing wider as if he had just had an epiphany. "Hey, that's  
it, isn't it?" he asked. "Far Far Away. That's the connection!  
That's why the overlord appointed you sheriff to make sure that  
nothing happens to that frog king's precious ogress daughter! Isn't  
it? One noble doing his royal buddy a favor. Who CARES how it  
affects the common villager? You're not so much a sheriff as a  
royal bodyguard to a blue-blooded, green-skinned beast! A literal  
toad's toady! I'm surprised they trusted you, the way they say you  
screwed up your old job over in Nottingham "

The sheriff, who had been slowly but visibly starting to fume during  
Feldgud's tirade, now strode forward toward him with a purpose. The  
villagers in the tavern gasped in anticipation, and Feldgud's eyes  
shot wide open like a deer's in coachlights as the sheriff quickly  
closed the distance. When he reached the sitting, quivering  
Feldgud, the sheriff grabbed the front of the villager's shirt and  
literally lifted him off the chair until they were staring eye-to-  
eye.

"Listen, PUNK," the sheriff snarled. "You seem to have more teeth  
than most of the people around here. I suggest, if you want to KEEP  
it that way, that you never mention 'NOTTINGHAM' around me again!   
There were some misunderstandings there mistakes were made and  
yes, now I'm having to start over in this backwater mudhole. But  
if you think that means I've lost my edge, then you'd best think  
again! In fact, it makes me that much hungrier, and I've already  
chewed up and spat out more fat gristle like you than I care to  
remember. So you'd best never let me catch you looking in the  
direction of that swamp with so much as a lighted match or a salad  
fork in your hand, because if I do you WILL be going DIRECTLY to  
jail, you will NOT pass 'go', you will NOT collect two hundred  
dollars, I do NOT accept get-out-of-jail-free cards and I will NOT  
release you no matter HOW many times you roll doubles. UNDERSTAND?"

Feldgud gawked at the sheriff a moment longer, then gave a quick nod  
and a little whimper.

The sheriff's snarl morphed into another horrible, humorless grin,  
and then he said, "Good. I'm glad we had this little talk." He  
then released Feldgud, and the villager flopped back down onto his  
seat. All spirit of rebellion now evaporated, Feldgud sat cowering  
under the sheriff's steely glare. The sheriff grinned down at  
Feldgud for a few seconds more, then turned and strode slowly back  
towards the tavern door, the crowd as silent and his boots as loud  
as before. The sheriff opened the door, then turned back around and  
looked across the faces of the tavern's occupants. "You may carry  
on ... gentlemen," he said. "Just don't get carried away." He then  
exited the tavern, the door swinging shut behind him.

All eyes slowly slid from the now shut tavern door back to Feldgud.   
The man blushed brightly and quickly swung around in his seat so  
that he was facing the bartender. "Give me a double Scotch!"  
Feldgud ordered, but then said, "Blast, no, that reminds me of that  
rancid ogre's brogue. Give me a Bourbon instead. Wait no  
that reminds me of royalty. Blast! Just forget it!"

Feldgud was about to bolt from his chair and out the tavern door  
when a sedate voice beside him said quietly, "You know, there are  
other ways to take care of 'ogre problems.' More ... discreet   
ways."

Feldgud turned to see that the seat beside him was now occupied by a  
thin, dark, goateed man dressed in crimson tights and matching  
woodsman's hat along with tall boots and a short cape. In his right  
hand he was holding a knife with which he was attentively whittling  
a piece of wood that he held in his left hand into what was starting  
to resemble a small musician's pipe.

"Come again?" Feldgud asked.

The man gave a small jerk of his head toward a far corner of the  
tavern. "Come," he said softly. "Sit with me at my table. We'll  
have more privacy for our ... transaction."

The man calmly got off his seat and headed toward the far corner.   
After hesitating a moment, Feldgud followed. They eventually  
reached a relatively quiet both which featured a small table upon  
which sat a mug of partially consumed beer and a wooden plate which  
held a half-finished food dish. The two took seats on opposite  
sides of the table.

"Just who ARE you?" Feldgud asked.

"A bit more quietly, please," the stranger asked, casting his eyes  
about them, not in a nervous way, but rather with meticulous  
thoroughness.

"All right," Feldgud said more quietly, "who are you?"

"I am a professional ... exterminator," the man in crimson said  
carefully, his voice low but easily understood by Feldgud. "I  
specialize in rats, but I do offer to eradicate other ... inhuman  
pests ... for a fee."

The blood that had rushed to Feldgud's head when he blushed at the  
bar now all drained from it. It had been one thing to talk of  
leading a haphazard gaggle of villagers in a wild rush through the  
ogre's swamp. But to talk of 'extermination' so coldly ... Feldgud  
realized he was on the verge of entering a whole new league, a  
league he wasn't sure he was ready for or even WANTED to enter. The  
bargain seemed somehow Faustian to him, an impression strengthened  
by the color of the man's outfit. But to be rid of the ogres to  
finally be free of the monsters and remove the menace from this  
precious village wouldn't that serve the greater good, and wasn't  
that worth temporarily suspending those principles that were  
currently gnawing at his soul in protest of this proposition?   
Feldgud decided that yes, it was. It was a sacrifice that he was  
willing to make. It wasn't like they were talking about REAL  
PEOPLE, after all.

"So," the man in crimson said, seeming to sense Feldgud's inner  
decision, "I heard you say that you would like to get rid of this  
new ogress that inhabits the swamp?"

"Yes," Feldgud whispered. "Well, both ogres, actually."

The 'exterminator' smiled crookedly. "I do not think that you can  
afford both right now. But I tell you what. You pay me cash to get  
rid of the female first, since that was your stated preference.   
Once that is done, and you see if you like my work, then we can  
negotiate a payment plan for the male."

Feldgud licked his lips. He had to make sure they were really  
speaking the same language, so he asked, "Exactly what do you mean  
... 'get rid of'?"

"I will arrange for her to suffer a tragic ... accident."

"But if they find her dead, they'll trace " Feldgud began.

"SHHHHH!" the stranger quickly silenced Feldgud. "Don't fear," the  
man said. "When they find her ... IF they find her ... they will  
realize that she is but the poor victim of a terrible accident, just  
as I said."

"But the sheriff "

"Won't be able to prove a thing."

Feldgud felt his heart pound. He then had a terrible thought,  
looked over towards the tavern door where the sheriff had left, and  
then back to this stranger. "This isn't a trap, is it?"

The man in crimson chuckled briefly. "No, my friend, it is not. It  
is business transaction. Nothing more."

"But ... how do you plan to ... accomplish this?" Feldgud asked.   
"The female's not as big or strong as the male, is she's still  
pretty powerful. Plus she's able to do this ... this ..."  
Feldgud waved his hands in the air in awkward karate chop-type  
motions as he tried to recall the term "... this Haiku thing ..."

"None of that matters," the man said dismissively. "I will never  
get near her. She will likely never even see me."

"Then how "

The man in crimson stopped whittling on the little wooden pipe, laid  
down his knife, then brought the pipe to his lips and blew a few  
test notes, although not too loudly, his fingers nimbly working the  
holes. Then he said, "Music hath charm not only to sooth the savage  
beast, but when wielded by someone with the proper knowledge and  
equipment, to bend it to one's will as well. I shall be able to  
lead the ogress wherever I wish. So tell me ... are there any  
particularly notorious local features high cliffs, dangerous  
rivers, et cetera near these ogres' swamp? I know that quicksand  
pits are often common in such localities and would be useful to our  
purposes."

"No, no quicksand pits that I know of, but ..." Feldgud thought for  
moment, then his eyes brightened and he said, "There IS the Devil's  
Drainpipe!"

"'Devil's Drainpipe'?" the man repeated, intrigued.

"Yes," Feldgud said, "it's an almost bottomless pit that opened up  
some time ago along what's now an old abandoned road that runs along  
the base of a valley and over a cavern. Nothing that falls in THERE  
has nor do I think could ever see the light of day again.   
Plus it's only a couple of miles from their swamp!"

"That sounds ideal," the man in crimson conceded. "Now, I just need  
two things from you. Meet me back here in one hour. Bring me a map  
that lays out the landscape between the ogres' swamp and this  
'Devil's Drainpipe'. Also, you may bring me my payment, a sum of  
..." the man looked around them for a second, then leaned forward  
and whispered the amount in Feldgud's ear.

"That much!" Feldgud whispered back hoarsely. "I can't afford  
that!"

"Then may I suggest that you DISCRETELY take up a collection amongst  
your ... followers," the man in crimson said, gesturing toward the  
villagers that had reassembled at the bar. "And do not fear. Once  
I receive payment, performance is guaranteed. I do not go back on  
my word like a certain feline former associate of mine who succumbed  
to a misguided sense of honor. Fortunately for you, I have no sense  
of honor whatsoever. Just a sense for business."

"Very well," Feldgud said, rising from his seat. "I shall return in  
an hour's time, Mr. ... Mr. ...?"

The man in crimson laid the little pipe down and picked his knife  
back up. He calmly held it up in front of him, examining the sharp  
instrument for several seconds. Eventually he said, "They call me  
... 'The Piper'." With that, The Piper dramatically plunged the  
knife blade down into the item sitting on his wooden plate a  
piece of strawberry rhubarb pie. He then carved off a bite-sized  
piece of the pie and shoveled it into his mouth, then began chewing  
it slowly ... very slowly ... one corner of his mouth smeared with  
some of the pie's blood-red filling.


	4. Layer 3: A Booting Revisited

Layer 3: A Booting Revisited

Fiona's jaw dropped open. She suspected the reason for the   
discrepancy between her husband's story of his parents' death and   
the appearance of Groyl and Moyre on their doorstep would be an odd   
one, but Shrek's announcement that they were 'dead' to him chilled   
her. As he stared at his parents, he looked shocked and angry and   
sad and ... somehow insecure ... all at once.

Then Fiona looked back at his parents. Groyl had an expression   
somewhere between anger and disappointment. Moyre simply looked   
hurt. As she beheld her son her eyes started to glisten. Fiona   
began to feel sympathy for her for the first time.

"Shreklecheh!" Moyre said, "How can ye speak like that about your   
own mother and father?"

"It wouldn't be easy," Shrek said, sounding more pained than angry   
now, "except for the booting. And ... just call me 'Shrek', Mom."

"Why did ye shorten it to 'Shrek', anyway?" she asked.   
"'Shreklecheh' is a good name. It was my father's name."

"'Shrek' is who I am now, Mom. You'd have learned that ... but for   
the booting."

"Maybe we should go," Groyl said. Like Shrek, his voice held a   
mixture of pain and anger, but in the elder's case the anger seemed   
to be winning sway.

"Maybe ye should," Shrek agreed curtly.

Groyl's jaw set and his eyes narrowed. "Moyre," he said between   
clenched teeth, "let's go. He's not the maturity yet t'be   
reconciled." Groyl then reached over, took his wife's arm, and   
began leading her toward the door. Shrek began to step aside to   
give them room to leave.

"WHOA!" Fiona said, stepping in front of the departing couple before   
they reached the door. "Please wait!" she beseeched Groyl. The   
older ogre looked down at her wordlessly, then over at Shrek.   
Groyl's face still had an angry set, and Fiona could see his jaw   
clenching and unclenching, but he gave a brief nod and did not   
advance any further.

"Shrek," Fiona then said, turning to her husband, "these ARE your   
parents, aren't they?"

"Aye," Shrek replied simply.

"And they aren't REALLY dead. I mean, this isn't a Farquaad thing,   
right?" she asked.

Shrek sighed, then nodded. "Right," he said.

"Then I don't understand," Fiona said. "Why are you acting this   
way?"

"It's ... it's hard t'explain, Fi," Shrek said. Although his anger   
was receding, he seemed to be struggling with considerably more than   
just finding words. "This isn't like the deal with YOUR folks. Not   
at all. Ye don't need t'feel obliged t'step into this. This   
doesn't affect US."

"Oh, Shrek," Fiona said, approaching her husband, her tone   
softening, "of COURSE this affects 'us'. These are your PARENTS.   
Just as our marriage made you a part of MY family, it made me a part   
of YOURS." Then Fiona had a terrible thought, and added timidly,   
"Unless ... you're ashamed of me."

"ASHAMED?" Shrek gasped. "Good grief, Fi, that's the exact OPPOSITE   
of how I feel t'have ye as my wife! I've never been prouder of   
anything in my life than when ye married me!"

Fiona gave her husband a brief, loving smile, and then implored,   
"Then what IS it? What is the ... the 'deal', as you put it ...   
between you?"

Shrek sighed again, straightened up, and looked over at his parents.   
His face took on an expression of wounded pride and his own jaw set   
stubbornly. Fiona looked back over to Groyl, and except for the age   
and attire difference, thought she might have been looking at   
Shrek's reflection. Both males remained obstinately silent. Moyre,   
for her part, was looking down, and every so often seemed to be   
sobbing.

Growing frustrated, Fiona thought back on what she'd heard so far,   
then turned back to Shrek. "Does it have to do with this ...   
'booting' you mentioned?"

Shrek gave a mirthless chuckle, then said, "Aye."

"So ... what IS that?" she asked.

Shrek nodded over to his parents. "Ask them," he said. "It was   
THEIR idea."

Fiona turned back to his parents as Groyl said, "Shrek, that's not   
fair!"

Moyre looked up then, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. "It was a   
TRADITION, Shreklecheh! It has been done to ogres for generations!"

"But it was done to ME just ONCE," Shrek said.

"Your grandfather did it to me, Shrek," Groyl said. "I got over   
it."

"Didja, Dad?" Shrek retorted. "Well, good for you! I guess that   
makes ye a better ogre than me, doesn't it?"

"I didn't say that!" Groyl growled.

"So forgive and forget, is that it?" Shrek asked.

"No," Groyl said, "we take the lessons learned, reconcile, and move   
on with our lives. That's the way it's done, Shrek. Ye don't   
forgive us ... because we've done nothing t'cause us to NEED your   
forgiveness."

There was a pause while father and son glared at each other. Fiona   
took this time to ask, "So would someone PLEASE explain to me what a   
'booting' is?"

"Oh, Fiona," Moyre said irritably, "this doesn't concern you."

"Uh, EXCUSE me?" Fiona said, turning toward the ogress and allowing   
some of her temper to have reign for the first time against her   
mother-in-law. "I think that anything that affects SHREK so deeply   
might just be of interest to ME. Isn't that part of the role of a   
good WIFE?"

"That's not what I mean," Moyre said impatiently. "It's just that   
it's a tradition among ... our kind."

"She's right, Fi," Shrek agreed, "ye wouldn't understand. It's   
an --" Shrek then cut himself off, realizing that he'd probably   
said too much already.

As Shrek suspected, it was too late. Fiona glared at her husband,   
the embarrassments and frustrations and slights of the day finally   
starting to overcome her ability to control her temper. "Go ahead,   
Shrek," she challenged. "Go on! SAY IT!"

"OKAY!" he shot back, the situation getting the better of him as   
well. "It's an OGRE thing!"

"Well, SWEETHEART, I hate to have to point out that you and your   
parents aren't the ONLY ones around here with green skin and long   
ears!" Fiona retorted. "And not only have I now been an ogre for   
over half my life, but need I remind you that, when presented with   
an alternative, I readopted this form by CHOICE?!"

"So are ye COMPLAINING about that, now?" Shrek asked.

"No, not at all!" Fiona responded. "What I AM 'complaining' about   
is that you don't show me the respect I deserve by sharing with me   
what it means to BE an ogre in those areas where I might have missed   
something due to my ... special upbringing. Because, for better or   
worse, dear, I AM 'an ogre thing'!"

"Okay, fine, you're right!" Shrek conceded with agitated reluctance.   
Then he looked into his wife's deep blue eyes, both fiery and   
earnestly yearning now, and he felt his anger dissolve like   
gingerbread in a bowl of hot milk. "You're right, Fi," he repeated,   
but this time with true remorse. "I'm sorry. I really am. To   
answer your question, a 'booting' is when the parents of an ogre   
child get together and decide to send their wee one out into the   
world on his own, without support of any kind, to make due as best   
he can."

"What?!" Fiona gasped.

"Not CHILD, Shrek!" Moyre said, hurt in her voice. "You were a MAN!"

"I had just barely started puberty!" Shrek shot back, his own voice   
betraying more than a hint of pain.

"Oh, grow up, Shrek," Groyl snapped. "We wouldn't have done it if   
we didn't feel ye were ready for it. An ogre at that age is already   
bigger and scarier than anything he might happen against in the   
forest. We'd just taught ye all we could, your mother and I, for   
surviving in this world. It was time for ye t'go and hue out your   
own niche in life. Ye were young and cocky and surly -- and   
independent. To have kept ye at home under mommy and daddy's care   
any longer woulda taken the edge off those traits, and an ogre NEEDS   
t'keep those traits sharp to survive."

"Listen to your father, Shreklecheh!" Moyre injected. "We did it   
for your own good! It was time for ye t'find your own destiny!"

"Oh, my!" Fiona gasped, then covered her mouth with her cupped hands   
as her eyes widened in recognition.

Moyre rolled her eyes and turned towards Fiona. "I know," Moyre   
said. "It upsets human sensibilities. YOU think kids oughtta be   
allowed to hang around the parents' apron strings until --"

"No, no, that's not it!" Fiona said. Then her eyes locked with   
Shrek's, and her husband automatically seemed able to read her   
thoughts.

"It's not the same, Fi," he said.

"No, but it's awfully darned close!" she replied.

"What are ye two TALKING about?" Moyre asked, confused.

An ironic smile played at the corner of Fiona's mouth. "It seems   
that I had my own 'booting'," she said.

"What?!" Moyre repeated.

"I was about that same age when MY parents sent me away from MY   
home," Fiona replied, looking at her mother-in-law. "For MY good.   
To find MY destiny. Or maybe ..." Fiona's eyes drifted back to   
Shrek. "... it was for my destiny to find ME."

Shrek saw Fiona's eyes start to assume that dreamy quality, and he   
rolled his own. "Yeah, well, just one wee bit of difference, dear,"   
Shrek noted. "Your parents locked you in a castle where ye were   
watched over by Dragon. All security and no freedom. Me, I had   
freedom, alright, but ..." Shrek stopped, frowned, heaved a great   
sigh, and said, "Never mind." He then looked around to see three   
pairs of eyes staring silently, expectantly at him. He just shook   
his head, turned, and walked over to the fireplace where he braced   
his arms against the mantle and stared into the flames. After a   
moment, however, Fiona wandered over and placed her hand gently on   
his shoulder.

"And you were frightened," she said softly.

"I didn't say that," he countered defensively.

"Shrek ... it's okay," Fiona whispered.

Shrek sighed. "At first it was fine," he said, his voice mellowing.   
"It was great, actually. I was looking forward to it. They told me   
I was all grown now and it was time t'go off on my own and find my   
destiny. So I marched off into the woods, thinking how free I was   
and how I was really gonna do my share of damage in this old world.   
So I did everything from scaring off villagers I chanced upon on   
the trails to wilting flowers with my stench. Even got bit by a   
snake once, and the SNAKE died! Yeah, I was young and full 'o spit.   
A regular king of my domain. But ... well, the domain got lonely   
after a while. I found out that finding my 'destiny' was taking   
longer and was a bit harder than certain storybooks would have ye   
believe. So I tried doing what I'd been told not to. I tried going   
back home. But they were gone."

"We had to, Shrek," Groyl said, stepping forward, his own voice   
softer. "It's part of the --"

"Tradition, yes Dad, I get it," Shrek finished for him. "To prevent   
just that type of thing from happening. I understand that, here" --   
Shrek tapped his head -- "but it still hurt down HERE" -- Shrek   
tapped his chest.

"Oh, Shreklecheh," Moyre said, also stepping forward, "if ye only   
knew -- ye were never alone --"

"MOYRE!" Groyl barked at his wife. Moyre quickly bit her lip and   
looked down.

But it was too late not to intrigue Shrek. He turned back around   
now and looked straight at his parents. "What?" he asked.

The older ogres tried to avoid Shrek's eyes.

"Tell me!" Shrek said, his voice taking on more urgency. Then,   
after a moment, he added in a gentler but even more urgent tone,   
"Please!"

Groyl sighed deeply, gave his wife one more reproachful glance, then   
looked Shrek directly in the eye. "T'be honest, Son, not ...   
everything ... went according to tradition."

Shrek's eyes narrowed. "What d'ye mean?" he asked.

Groyl hesitated, but then Moyre looked up at Shrek and spoke. "Your   
father followed ye, Shrek."

"What?!" Shrek asked, confused.

"He followed ye when ye left our home," she continued. "Camped   
near where you camped, kept an eye on you from a distance, t'make   
sure ye were doing all right."

"But I never saw --" Shrek began.

"Ye weren't supposed to," Groyl said. "I was older and had more   
experience, Shrek. I knew how t'keep stealthy."

"So how long were ye watching over me?" Shrek asked, astounded.

Groyl gave a self-conscious shrug. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe   
a couple of weeks --"

"Six months," Moyre said, "until he was sure ye'd be okay. I   
wanted t'be there, too, but he said it'd be tempting fate, having us   
both trying t'keep around ye secretly. He was your guardian angel,   
Shrek. He --"

"That's enough, Moyre," Groyl said quietly, then looked away,   
blushing, as Shrek's jaw dropped.

"Dad," Shrek said, "ye did that ... for me?"

Groyl shrugged again and looked back up at Shrek. "Ye were my son,"   
he said. "It was my ... duty."

"But ye broke the rules," Shrek noted, and started to smile.

"Hey!" Groyl said, "What good ogre DOESN'T break some rules every   
now and then?"

Groyl and Shrek beheld each other silently for a few seconds more.

"Dad ..." Shrek ventured tentatively.

"Yes ... Shrek?" Groyl asked.

"I ... " Shrek began, then paused, then lunged at his father, and   
before the surprised elder ogre could react he found himself trapped   
in a huge bear hug. "I love ye, Dad," Shrek said quietly, "and I've   
missed ye ... so much."

"Son," Groyl said, his voice uncertain, "I ... uh ..." he forced a   
laugh and added, "I think that maybe ye've been hanging 'round   
humans too long!" But a few moments later Groyl reached forward and   
returned his offspring's hug with equal intensity. "I love ye, too,   
son," he whispered. Both ogres, eyes closed, continued embracing   
for several seconds.  
  
As Fiona watched the father and son she felt tears of her own begin   
welling in her eyes. She looked over at Moyre, but the moment that   
she made contact with the elder ogress Moyre turned away. Fiona's   
initial instinct was to simply regard this as one more slight from a   
mother-in-law who either felt obliged to play out her stereotypical   
role or had found some real fault in Fiona which the younger ogress   
hadn't figured out yet. But for some reason that she couldn't quite   
pin down, Fiona got an uneasy impression that there was something   
else in that brief expression that she saw in Moyre's face before   
the elder ogress turned away that indicated something far more   
serious than that. And it made the hairs on the back of Fiona's   
neck begin to rise.


	5. Layer 4: Preparations

Layer 4: Preparations  
  
The Piper was sitting at his table, finishing another piece of pie,  
when he saw Feldgud appear, catch his eye, and then move towards  
him. The villager cast wary glances in all directions as he  
approached, and the Piper could see that he was clutching a small  
sack and a scroll tightly to his chest. The Piper sighed, wiped his  
mouth with a napkin, and then looked up at the clock. It had been  
nearly an hour to the dot. At least the man was punctual.  
  
Feldgud retook the seat at the table across from the Piper. Then  
Feldgud said simply, "The map" and shoved the scroll -- made of  
parchment paper -- across to the musician.  
  
The Piper unwound it partially and saw a hand-drawn but relatively  
detailed map of the area leading from a spot marked with a scribbled  
'Typical Village' next to it to another area similarly labeled  
'Ogres' Swamp' and finally to one labeled 'Devil's Drainpipe'.  
"Very good," the Piper said, re-winding the scroll, "although you  
needn't have given me directions how to get to the swamp from this  
village. I have been there before."  
  
"Really?" Feldgud said, surprised and suspicious.  
  
"Yes. During Farquaad's attempted purge of 'undesirables' I was  
deigned to fall into that inauspicious category and was temporarily  
resettled there, although not long enough to learn of useful  
regional landmarks such as this Devil's Drainpipe."  
  
"But ... if that's the case ... then from what I've heard the ogre's  
actions eventually led to your freedom," Feldgud said, trying to  
come to grips with the ironic fact that he had been dealing with an  
officially declared Fairy Tale Freak. "Don't you feel any ..."  
  
"Gratitude?" the Piper suggested. Feldgud nodded. The Piper smiled  
a half-smile and replied, "The ogre was acting in his own self-  
interest when he left the swamp after finding us camped out there in  
his 'quest' to reclaim it. His only concern for us was to see about  
getting us kicked off of his land. If those other fools around me  
couldn't see that and chose to regard the ogre as some sort of hero  
rather than the selfish brute he was, that is not MY concern. No.  
I have no delusions of gratitude. But I do have my needs. And  
currently those include ... my fee."  
  
"Huh?" Feldgud said, confused for a moment. Then he uttered, "Oh!"  
and pushed a small cloth sack across the table.  
  
The Piper picked the sack up, feeling and hearing coins shifting  
inside. But not enough coins. "This is only about half of our  
agreed amount," he said darkly.  
  
"I know," Feldgud said, trying to sound brave despite the sweat  
starting to bead on his brow. "You'll receive the other half when  
the job is done." Here Feldgud pulled out a second sack -- the same  
size as the first -- and jiggled it slightly so that it made a small  
jingling sound. He then put it back away.  
  
The Piper smiled. "You don't trust me?"  
  
"And why should I?" Feldgud asked, still trying to screw up some  
courage. "All I've heard so far is talk. For full payment, I need  
to see action!"  
  
"Very well, you shall," the Piper said, rising from the table.  
  
"What are you doing?" Feldgud asked, confused.  
  
"I'm off to attend to our agreed-to task," the Piper replied, taking  
enough money from the sack Feldgud had given him to cover his food  
and tip and leaving it on the table. "Meet me at this Devil's  
Drainpipe later this evening. I will have the ogress with me. But  
I will expect full payment at that time before I have her ... take  
the plunge, if you will."  
  
"But ..." -- Feldgud's courage started to unscrew -- "that's a very  
unstable area; not just the Drainpipe, but there's other sinkholes  
opening around there all the time. Plus, what if the sheriff sees  
me leave --"  
  
"Meet me there," the Piper said, "or I will regard you as having  
reneged on our bargain. I will not only free the ogress, I will  
make sure that they both know exactly who contracted for her  
demise."  
  
Feldgud blushed. "When will you be there with her?"  
  
"I'm not sure," the Piper said. "This will be a delicate operation;  
I will have to wait for my opportunity and not rush things. It  
requires patience on my part. I now require the same from you."  
The Piper then touched the upturned brim of his hat, said, "I shall  
see you later," and then from below the table retrieved a  
rectangular black leather case, some two feet long by eight inches  
wide by six inches deep, and made his way out of the tavern. Once  
outside, he carefully looked around to make sure he wasn't being  
unduly watched, then started up the dirt road where it lead in the  
general direction of the ogres' swamp.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Following the long embrace with his father, Shrek had shared a  
similar embrace with his mother. They then settled down into chairs  
-- Groyl in Shrek's easy chair, Moyre in Fiona's rocking chair, and  
Shrek in one of the wooden dinner chairs which he pulled over from  
the table and turned towards his parents -- and then Shrek began to  
tell them of his adventures since they had last seen him. As Shrek  
did so, he became so intent on relating his tales to his parents and  
his parents so wrapped up in hearing them that they all seemed to  
forget that Fiona was even in the room. For the most part Fiona was  
content with that, considering the circumstances, and sat for a  
while quietly in one of the other wooden chairs, which she left in  
place at the table a bit apart from the bonding trio before her.  
She sipped some tea -- in mute defiance of Moyre as much as her  
affinity for the brew -- and listened to Shrek's stories. Fiona had  
heard most of them before, and smiled to herself when she noted some  
detail which Shrek had inadvertently changed from when he had told  
it to her, and she wondered whether she had heard the truer version  
-- or his parents -- or the truth lay somewhere in between. At  
other times Shrek relayed a tale to his parents with which she was  
not familiar herself, and part of her felt a little jealous that he  
had shared it with them before he had with her. But another part of  
Fiona realized that her husband had spent years adventuring about in  
the world experiencing strange and exotic things while she had sat  
locked in a tower simply waiting for an adventurer to find HER. It  
would take some time before she learned all there was to know about  
this unique being to whom she had bound her life. And wasn't that  
discovery process part of the fun? Still, after a while, the less  
rational part of Fiona's mind started to feel somewhat neglected by  
the continued exclusion as Shrek prattled on, and she started to  
feel that she would appreciate something that would disrupt the  
little three-way tete-a-tete, if only for a little while. The  
thought made her feel somewhat guilty, but then she took comfort in  
the knowledge that without her earlier intervention, Shrek's parents  
would at his behest have stormed out of their home, possibly never  
to see their son again.  
  
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. All eyes quickly turned  
there, in the case of Shrek and his parents with irritation as much  
as curiosity. If Fiona had secretly been wishing for a disruption,  
the wish had surely been granted. Again feeling a tad guilty, she  
said, "I've got it!" and bounced from her chair and started toward  
the door.  
  
"Be careful, Fi," Shrek called as she was about to open the door.  
  
Fiona turned and smiled at her husband's concern. "Thanks,  
sweetie," she said, with silent gratitude that she was suddenly back  
on his radar. "But I'm a big girl now. Remember?" Still, to  
placate him, she pulled back the flap and looked out the knothole.  
She recognized their unexpected visitor immediately. She smiled,  
opened the door, and said, "Come on in, Donkey!"  
  
"Why, thank you, Princess, don't mind if I do!" a voice very  
familiar to the homeowners said, then a small gray donkey stepped  
across their threshold. As he did so he looked Fiona up and down and  
said, "Say, nice outfit, Princess! That's a different look for you  
-- are you outta set some sorta new fashion trend?"  
  
"What?" Fiona asked, confused for a moment, then looked down at  
herself and realized that she was still wearing her apron and  
Shrek's shirt. She also noticed that the shirt's wide neckline had  
inadvertently fallen somewhat askew, with one edge now resting  
against her neck on one side while the opening went as far as  
exposing the upper part of her arm on the other. Any culture that  
would adapt THAT as a 'fashion trend', Fiona thought, would be  
tasteless indeed. Aloud, she said, "Oh, shoot! I really need to  
change. But first, I'd like you to meet a couple of very special  
visitors today." She moved aside slightly to where she stood beside  
Donkey but was facing Shrek's parents, who had risen upon Donkey's  
entrance and were gawking at him in wonder. "Donkey," Fiona said,  
trying to sound official, "I'd like you to meet Shrek's parents, his  
father Groyl and his mother Moyre."  
  
Donkey's eyes opened wide and he gave a broad, toothy grin. "Oh,  
WOW!" he said excitedly. "Mr. and Mrs. ... uh, Shrek's Parents!  
Hey, yeah, I DO see the resemblance, Shrek! Man, am I happy to meet  
you guys! Shrek said -- hey, waitaminute!" Donkey's eyebrows  
knitted in confusion as the animal looked over at Shrek, who had  
also risen. "Shrek, didn't you tell me your parents were --"  
  
"It's a long story, Donkey," Shrek said with an embarrassed smile.  
"I'll tell ye 'bout it later. But Fiona's right -- these really ARE  
my parents."  
  
Groyl and Moyre continued to stare, both smiling amusedly. "So!"  
Groyl said to Shrek. "This is the stallion we read about who helped  
ye crash that ball, is it?"  
  
Donkey's face sagged and his voice lost all enthusiasm as he said,  
"Yeah, well, I WAS a stallion. Now I'm just --"  
  
"Just one of the bravest, noblest, most loyal friends anybody could  
ever ask for!" Fiona gushed, then leaned down and kissed Donkey on  
the forehead.  
  
"Ah, shucks!" Donkey said, blushing, the smile returning to his  
face.  
  
"Don't think that I'm not glad t'see ye, Donkey," Shrek said, "but  
we weren't expecting ye over today. Weren't ye gonna spend it with  
your family?"  
  
"Well, I WAS," Donkey said. "But 'turned out that the kids' flyin'  
lessons was today, so Dragon was gonna take 'em for a spin over  
round her old castle. I woulda rode with her, but she was gonna  
show 'em how ta do loop-de-loops, which makes it kinda hard to hold  
on. So I said, 'hey, you go ahead and I'll drop by Shrek and  
Fiona's for a while and meet ya over at their house later.' So here  
I am!"  
  
Moyre, her face bearing a bewildered expression, looked over to  
Shrek. "Dragons, kids, and ... FLYING lessons?" she asked.  
  
Shrek chuckled. "That's an even LONGER story," he said.  
  
"I'd be glad ta tell it!" Donkey volunteered.  
  
"I'm sure ye would," Shrek said with a wry smile.  
  
"Well, we're glad to have you, Donkey," Fiona said. "We were just  
about to eat dinner. Would you like to join us?"  
  
"Really?" Donkey said, perking up even more enthusiastically.  
"Sounds great! What'cho havin'?"  
  
"Odd Ends Stew," Fiona replied.  
  
"Oh." Donkey said. "Uh -- what's in it?"  
  
Fiona began listing the ingredients. As she did so, Donkey began  
looking less and less enthusiastic. As Fiona concluded, he said,  
"Uh, y'know, on second thought, I DID eat a big breakfast. Maybe I  
could just have a salad?"  
  
"As you like, Donkey," Fiona laughed. She looked over at Shrek, who  
smiled and winked at her. "But first, I think I should slip into  
something else before a delegation from Duloc decides to drop in as  
well."  
  
"Ye go ahead, Fi," Shrek said. "I'll start setting up for dinner."  
  
"Oh, Shrek," Fiona protested. "I didn't mean for you to have to --"  
  
"Hey, it's not a problem!" Shrek said. "Just 'cause I'm a male, I'm  
not helpless. Ye go on!"  
  
Shrek turned to retrieve some bowls as Fiona instinctively glanced  
over at Moyre. The elder ogress smiled sweetly and said, "Yes,  
dear. You go ahead. We'll do fine here without ye."  
  
Fiona sighed, then said, "All right. I'll be right back." She then  
turned and headed into the bedroom, adding silently under her breath,  
"As much as that might disappoint you."  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The Piper stood on the opposite slope of the small hill that  
overlooked Shrek and Fiona's home. He peered over the crest of the  
hill at the little house, then kneeled so that he was out of sight  
of anyone who might glance out. He had only been there a few  
minutes, just long enough to see a small gray donkey gain admittance  
to the abode, thus confirming that someone was there, and since he  
knew that there were only two ogres, that meant the odds were  
excellent that his mark was home.  
  
As he knelt, the Piper unlatched his black leather-bound case, then  
opened it. Inside, encased in form-fitting protective foam lining,  
were various instruments of his trade. The Piper began his business  
with professional efficiency. First, he withdrew two eight-inch  
long sleek ebony halves of a special woodwind pipe instrument -- a  
type of chalumeau -- and screwed the pieces together. Then he  
withdrew a telescopic sight with an extended scope mount and snapped  
it onto the chalumeau. Next he looked over his selection of  
specialized mouthpieces, each bearing a small label indicative of  
its purpose. He found the one labeled 'Ogre Leader' and attached it  
to one end of the instrument. He then pulled out the last part that  
he would need for this assignment -- a silencer, whose purpose was  
to prevent anyone from hearing his music except the person or thing  
that he had trained in the telescopic sight. He screwed the  
silencer into the bell end of the chalumeau, then closed and latched  
the case. He then attached the handle of the case to a special hook  
on the back of his belt, then laid on his stomach and, chalumeau  
clutched in one hand, began crawling up the hill until he could see  
the ogres' home just over its crest. He then brought the chalumeau  
up so that the mouthpiece was in his mouth and then he adjusted the  
extensions of the telescopic sight until it was comfortably aligned  
with one eye. He did not blow through the instrument yet, but  
scanned the front of the shanty with the sight, adjusting its focus  
as he trained its crosshairs at various objects, ending with the  
center of the door. He then sat the instrument down, within easy  
reach should his quarry appear. His preparations were complete. It  
would now simply be a matter of time. As he settled himself down to  
wait, he reached into a pocket and pulled out an individually  
wrapped snack pie -- this one blueberry -- then quietly tore the  
packaging open and began to eat as he patiently kept watch on the  
home.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Fiona entered her and Shrek's bedroom and closed the door behind  
her. "'We'll do fine without ye, dear'", she said in a voice  
mocking Moyre. She then marched over to the bed, picked up a  
pillow, held it tightly against her face, and screamed as loudly as  
she dared. Then she did it again. After a third scream she felt  
better. She dropped the pillow back into place, sighed, and headed  
for the closet.  
  
She looked over the dresses she had hung for ready use. She  
considered her newer, decorative steel green dress she had worn  
during that memorable first dinner with her own family and Shrek,  
and which she had also somehow ended up wearing at the ball (she  
wasn't sure how) after her transformation from human back into  
ogress. No, she decided, she would not wear that one. The dinner  
connection didn't bode well, and besides, it was too ornate compared  
to what her in-laws were wearing. Goodness knew WHAT Moyre would  
say if the princess suddenly appeared OVER-dressed.  
  
Fiona moved on to the dress hung beside that one, and a wistful  
smile found its way to her lips. It was the kelly-green felt dress  
with the gold trim that she had been wearing when Shrek rescued her  
from Dragon's castle and during that memorable journey back to  
Duloc. It had a few slightly worn areas here and there from the  
many adventures it had seen and spills she had taken in it. Fiona  
took hold of a sleeve of the dress and gently rubbed the soft  
material between her fingers with affection. But then she sighed.  
No, this was perhaps a bit much as well. She then moved a bit  
further down the closet -- past a couple of other plainer dresses  
that might have been sufficient -- to a new outfit she had recently  
designed and made herself -- well, made with help from Shrek, whose  
self-sufficient tailoring skills, like his cooking skills, still  
exceeded the princess's own. It was a very basic design that she  
had based on Shrek's own favorite outfit. It featured a long-  
sleeved blouse made from the same off-white material as Shrek's  
shirts. Over this went a jumper made of tanned alligator leather  
for the part that went from her shoulders down to her waist in a 'V'  
pattern, and attached to that a brown felt skirt part that fell from  
the waist to her ankles. Across the waist, separating the leather  
part and the felt part, went a four-inch wide black belt. (She  
remembered debating with Shrek about the belt color -- if it should  
be brown like the rest of the jumper or off-white to match the  
underlying blouse -- but Shrek had said, 'Sweetheart, I've seen ye  
in action. Ye deserve a black belt.') Although Fiona had not worn  
it before except to try it on for fitting, she decided now was as  
good a time to debut it as any. She pulled off the apron and  
Shrek's shirt and then pulled on the various parts of the new  
outfit. Next she slipped her feet into a pair of snakeskin  
sandals to complete the ensemble. She then examined herself in a  
full length mirror that was mounted to one wall and still worked  
relatively well despite a crack that ran through its middle that had  
been caused one morning when it caught an unfortunate reflection of  
Shrek giving a fully open-mouthed yawn and scratching his behind at  
the same time. Fiona thought the outfit fit rather well ... in more  
ways than one.  
  
Fiona then walked over to her vanity, took a seat, and stared at her  
own reflection in the vanity mirror. After a few moments, she got a  
sudden irrational impulse and reached behind her head, undid the  
ribbons that held her braided pony-tail, and then pulled the braid  
apart. She then violently shook her head for a few seconds and then  
stopped and looked back at the new refection in the mirror. Her  
hair was now tossed and wild and disheveled. In short, except for  
its superior length and body, it resembled Moyre's 'style' -- or  
lack thereof. A smirk played on Fiona's lips, and then she forced a  
mock sneer as she looked at herself and snarled with theatrical  
exaggeration but in a volume she made sure remained low enough not  
to be heard in the next room, "I am an OGRE. ROAAAR!"  
  
"Ye'll need t'put more heart into it than that, Fi," her husband's  
voice, tinged with humor, came from the now open doorway. "But  
don't go too far or ye'll break the mirror."  
  
Fiona gave a little shriek, looked back to see Shrek standing there,  
and grabbed at her chest. "Good grief, Shrek!" she said, trying to  
catch her breath, "Have you taken some sort of life insurance policy  
out on me that I don't know about, since you seem intent on  
FRIGHTENING me to death?"  
  
"Sorry, sweetheart," Shrek said, but chuckled anyway as he closed  
the door behind him. "I just wanted t'see how ye were holding up  
with my folks ... and to say thank ye."  
  
"Thank you?" she asked. "For what?"  
  
"For stepping in and keeping 'em here when I was ready to toss 'em  
out. Ye ... ye don't know how much that means t'me."  
  
Fiona smiled. "Watching you and your folks the past hour or so, I  
think I'm getting an idea." She then turned back to the mirror and  
gestured towards her reflection. "What do you think?" she asked.  
"How do you like the new me?"  
  
She watched in the mirror while Shrek came up behind her and rested  
his hands on the back of her shoulders as he also examined her  
reflection. "Not bad, if you're talking 'bout the new outfit," he  
said. "Not bad at all. I see ye've decided to try it out."  
  
"It seemed an appropriate occasion," she replied.  
  
Shrek ran a hand lightly through her disheveled hair. "And this?"  
he asked.  
  
She shrugged. "Isn't this style more ... ograrian?"  
  
Shrek sighed. "Have my folks been giving ye a hard time?"  
  
"Not your father," Fiona replied. "He's been a perfect gentleman.  
In fact, it's hard to believe that ... uh, never mind."  
  
Shrek smiled as he saw Fiona blush and look down. "Hard t'believe  
that he's the father to such an ill-tempered ogre?" he asked.  
  
"Shrek, I didn't mean --"  
  
"It's okay, Fiona!" Shrek laughed. "Actually, Dad IS a lot more  
like me ... at least as I remember him ... if ye stick him out in a  
swamp and he has t'deal with everyday irritations. Remember what I  
told ye, Fi. Ogres are like --"  
  
"Onions, yes, we have layers," she finished for him. "Well, onions  
have skins, too, and I'm afraid your mother is starting to get under  
mine."  
  
"So if my dad's been a 'perfect gentleman', then my mom's been ...  
something else?"  
  
"Ha!" Fiona guffawed. "Your mom's been 'something else', all right!  
Practically -- no, LITERALLY from the moment she laid eyes on me  
she's been getting digs in about my human background. I mean, good  
grief, Shrek, she's never even given me a CHANCE!" Then Fiona  
sighed and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. "But I guess  
you know how that feels, huh?" she asked apologetically.  
  
Shrek shrugged. "I have a rough idea," he allowed. "Enough to know  
it's something I don't want YOU to have t'go through. I'll have a  
talk with'er."  
  
"No!" Fiona objected. "Don't! It'll only make things worse --  
she'll figure I complained to you just to poison you against her.  
No, let me try for a while longer, first."  
  
"But Fi, if what she says hurts ye --"  
  
"I'll be fine," she said, perhaps not as convincingly as she'd  
liked.  
  
"All right," Shrek said reluctantly, "but remember --" he laid both  
his massive hands on the back of her shoulders again and squeezed  
gently -- "I'm on your side in this."  
  
"I appreciate that, dearest," she said lovingly, reaching back to  
lay her left hand on top of his right and looking back up directly  
into his face. "I just pray we don't have to pick sides, but that  
we all end up on the same one instead."  
  
Shrek leaned down and he and Fiona shared a kiss. Then he reached  
forward to the vanity table and retrieved a brush.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
Shrek gestured towards her hair. "That's not REALLY you, is it,  
Fi?"  
  
"Well," she said, "I ... uh ..."  
  
Shrek sighed. "Like I said b'fore, sweetheart, ye don't need t'go  
changing to try and please me ... or ANYBODY else." He began gently  
brushing her hair back into its normal style as he continued, "And  
don't go trying to figure out what ogresses are SUPPOSED t'be like,  
or try to figure out which part o' your personality is ogre and  
which part's human. 'Cause you're a very unique person, and just as  
steel is that much stronger for being an amalgamation of diffr'nt  
metals, you're that much more special for all those ingredients, the  
best of both species -- things like beauty, strength, intelligence,  
courage, wit, charm, passion, COMpassion, and character -- that  
blend together t'create that richly complex, one-of-a-kind  
individual known as Princess Fiona of Far Far Away, who I'm the  
luckiest being on this planet t'be able t'call my wife."  
  
Fiona felt a tear well in one eye. She smiled at her husband's  
reflection and said in a soft voice, "My! Sir Shrek, thou dost  
have a way with words!"  
  
Shrek smiled back ... then the smile turned into a mischievous grin  
as Shrek said, "Yeah, well, maybe I'm channeling Prince Charming."  
  
"Oh, yuck!" Fiona said, her face souring. "Unfortunately, you also  
know how to spoil a mood." Suddenly the memory of cherry-flavored  
lips being forced against hers sprang into Fiona's mind, and she  
reflexively reached up and wiped off her mouth. For Shrek's part,  
hearing and seeing Fiona's reaction to his remark gave his heart a  
little leap of joy.  
  
Shrek had finished brushing back the main part of Fiona's hair. He  
now brushed out her pony tail then retrieved a ribbon from the  
vanity and tied off the top part. Then he started redoing her  
braid.  
  
"What are you DOING?" she asked.  
  
"Braiding your hair," he replied simply.  
  
"So how did YOU ever learn to braid girls' hair?" she asked, quite  
surprised.  
  
Shrek shrugged as he carefully worked her hair, his large fingers  
surprisingly nimble. "Sometimes in the 'morn I'd lay in bed and  
watch ye while sat here and did it yourself."  
  
Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. "You always looked  
asleep to me."  
  
Shrek shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. "I'd ... uh ... sometimes  
pretend. I mean, the way ye looked in the 'morn ... with that fresh  
new light filtering through the window and glistening of'a ye ...  
and ye looking so peaceful an' serene sitting here at the vanity  
watching yourself in the mirror as ye did your hair. It's so ...  
well, I didn't wanna spoil anything, so I'd just kinda keep quiet  
and pretend t'be asleep ... secret-like..." Shrek paused. The  
words were becoming increasing uncomfortable for him to say. He  
looked in the mirror and saw Fiona watching his own reflection with  
those deep blue eyes, a sweet smile on her lips. He felt himself  
blush, then he shrugged and said, "So anyway, that's how I learned  
t'braid your hair."  
  
Fiona continued to stare at his reflection as they both fell into  
silence. As he concentrated harder on the braid, Shrek  
unconsciously started sticking the tip of his tongue out of one  
corner of his mouth, causing Fiona to have to suppress a giggle.  
Sometimes she felt such love for this ogre she thought her heart  
couldn't contain it all and would just burst. But his allusion to  
'secret' triggered an uneasiness which continued to gnaw at her even  
as she watched him, and eventually she felt it needed to be  
addressed.  
  
"Shrek," she began warily, "speaking of secrets, I can't help but  
wish you'd told me about your parents."  
  
He sighed. "I know ... and like I said, I'm sorry, Fi, but ..."  
  
"I understand you felt hurt. But ... Shrek, I'm your WIFE. I know  
you're used to being a private person, and I don't mean to pry into  
every little episode of your life or corner of your mind. But Shrek  
... something as important as this ... when you DON'T tell me ...  
well, it hurts ME. It makes me feel like you don't trust me.  
Besides ..." here she allowed herself a wry chuckle "this whole  
family doesn't do well with secrets. They always manage to get  
exposed in the most unexpected and inopportune ways, whether at a  
marriage ceremony or at a royal ball or simply by showing up at your  
front door."  
  
Shrek's face assumed a pensive expression as he appeared to be  
mulling over her words. He finished up the last strands of the  
braid at a progressively slower pace. "You're right, of course," he  
eventually said, then sighed. "Okay, Fi. No more secrets. I  
promise. Well, no big ones." Here he offered a little smile and  
added, "I hope ye don't mind if I hide the planning of a birthday  
party or two from ye in the future."  
  
"No. Not at all," Fiona said gently, smiling. "And thank you."  
  
"No problem," Shrek said, apparently glad that exchange was over.  
Then he took another ribbon and tied off the end of her ponytail.  
"There. What d'ye think?"  
  
Fiona reached back to feel the braided ponytail, and then held it up  
so that she could see it in the mirror. Although Shrek had done a  
surprisingly good job considering that this was his first attempt  
and that his fingers were the size of small wine bottles, the braids  
were still larger and not as tight or even as Fiona made them. In  
an odd way, however, that somehow worked with the tone of her new  
outfit. Besides, Fiona felt inwardly grateful that there was still  
SOME sort of domestic task that she was better at than her husband.  
  
"I think you did a fine job for your first time," she said honestly.  
Then she stood up from the chair and turned toward Shrek. They  
smiled at each other for a moment, then Fiona placed her palms  
against his vest, leaned up, and kissed his lips. "Thank you,  
again" she said.  
  
Shrek gently took her hands from his chest and tenderly cupped them  
in his. He then bowed down and kissed her left hand -- specifically  
the area around her wedding ring -- and said, "Glad to be of  
service, Your Highness."  
  
Fiona offered another smile, but it was somewhat troubled. She had  
one more thing she had to ask, and she was not only reluctant to  
have to do so, especially now, she was somehow afraid to learn  
whatever the answer might be.  
  
"What's wrong?" Shrek asked, his brow knitting in concern.  
  
"Shrek ... since you promised no more secrets ... please tell me  
what's REALLY bothering Moyre about me."  
  
"Well ... ye know how mother-in-laws can be --" Shrek began  
uncomfortably.  
  
"No!" Fiona interrupted. "There's something else. I sense it.  
Something ... more ... than that OR my simply having been human.  
Isn't there?"  
  
Shrek sighed. He looked down, avoiding her piercing eyes, and  
stared instead at her hand that he still held in his, and tenderly  
ran a finger along the wedding ring's 'I Love You' inscription.  
  
"Shrek ... you promised ..."  
  
"Alright," he finally said, suddenly looking up at her with  
resolution. "All right. I'll tell ye. But ... let's wait until  
after dinner. Later tonight. When we're alone and ... I've had  
time t'think."  
  
"Shrek ...don't you think it would be better BEFORE we go out there  
if --"  
  
"No," he said, "I ... well, frankly I have to think about HOW t'tell  
ye. I'm sorry, Fi, but ... well, that's the best I can do for now.  
Really. But I WILL tell ye. I promise."  
  
Fiona looked at him skeptically for a few moments, then decided to  
take his word. "All right," she agreed reluctantly, and offered a  
small smile, "but don't think I'll forget!"  
  
"I'm sure ye won't," he said, offering a wan smile himself.  
  
"Well," Fiona said, taking a deep sigh and looking toward the  
bedroom door. "I suppose it's time for the family dinner. I'll ...  
try not to disappoint you."  
  
"YOU? Disappoint ME?" Shrek chuckled. "With all the fantasies  
we've encountered, Fiona, that really IS the most absurd thing I've  
heard in m'life."  
  
"Thank you," Fiona said yet again, smiling genuinely now.  
  
Shrek returned it as he released her hands. Then he bowed, offered  
his left arm, and said, "Princess?"  
  
Fiona giggled, then she curtseyed, said, "My prince," and took the  
proffered arm with her right hand, cupping it along the inside crook  
of his elbow.  
  
The two made their way to the bedroom door. They paused for a  
moment before opening it.  
  
"Well," Fiona said, looking up at Shrek, "this is it."  
  
Shrek caught the allusion to her words just before they had met  
Fiona's parents for the first time, and he said as reassuringly as  
he could, "It's not gonna be that bad, Fiona."  
  
Fiona gave a brief, mirthless chuckle, and said, "Fortunately, I'm  
not going to make you promise THAT. Oh, well. I guess I'm as  
prepared as I'll ever be."  
  
She reached out, turned the knob and pulled the door open. Groyl,  
Moyre, and Donkey were all already seated at the dinner table, Groyl  
at one end and Moyre at one side, with Donkey on the side opposite  
her. Donkey was apparently keeping the in-laws entertained in the  
homeowners' absence by recounting a story.  
  
It was quickly obvious WHAT story Donkey was in the midst of  
recounting. "... 'Every night I become this,' she says. 'This  
horrible, ugly beast!' An' then she whacks her reflection in the  
water so hard that, man, I bet half the windmill got soaked!"  
  
"Did she, really?" Moyre asked, shaking her head.  
  
"Oh, good grief," Fiona moaned, reaching up and pinching the bridge  
of her nose with the hand not clutching Shrek's arm.  
  
"Uhhh ... hi, everybody!" Shrek said, trying to sound enthusiastic.  
"Sorry it look us a wee bit longer t'get ready than we thought."  
Fiona dropped the hand from her face and also forced a smile.  
  
"Well, Fiona, that's a very fine outfit!" Groyl said. Then to his  
wife, "Don't you think so, Moyre?"  
  
"Not bad. Not bad, at all," she allowed, looking Fiona up and down.  
Then she shifted her gaze to Shrek, looked him up and down as well,  
and added, "Although a little ... derivative."  
  
Then Donkey spoke up, saying, "Wow, princess, those really ARE  
snazzy new threads! Almost as nice as the ones you were wearing  
when I got here! But ... what took so long? Man, it seemed like  
you two were in there forev--" Then he checked himself, blushed,  
and said, "Oh. Maybe I shouldn't ask."  
  
"I was just CHANGING, Donkey," Fiona said, blushing somewhat  
herself.  
  
"Again?!" Moyre said. "But ... you still look like an ogress to  
me."  
  
Fiona stared at Moyre's deadpan expression, and had an odd feeling  
that once again she'd been slighted. But then Groyl began to  
chuckle. And after a moment Donkey, who had at first reacted to  
Moyre's comment with a dumbfounded stare, said, "Oh! 'Changing'! I  
get it!" and then he began laughing, too.  
  
Fiona looked up at Shrek, who was observing the trio at the table  
with suspicious eyes as well. "I ... think maybe it really WAS just  
a joke," he whispered.  
  
"Of COURSE it was just a joke, Son. Don't be silly.," Moyre said.  
She then looked at Fiona with her sharp eyes and smiled a smile that  
revealed most of her large, yellowed, uneven teeth and said,  
"Please, dear. Have a seat and let's get started on what I'm sure  
is a wonderful stew that you've prepared for us."  
  



	6. Layer 5: Family Stew

Layer 5: Family Stew  
  
Everyone had barely been settled -- Shrek at the end of the table  
opposite Groyl, Fiona on the opposite side across from Moyre and  
beside Donkey -- and the ogres had just started tasting their stew  
when Donkey decided this was the time to continue his narration.  
  
"So anyways," Donkey said, "she started goin' on about how she needed  
to reach Duloc and kiss Farquaad an' break the spell. Then -I- came  
up with the suggestion that her and Shrek had a lot in common an'  
maybe she should consider him. Then she goes, 'Shrek?' like she  
thought it was a really weird idea."  
  
Fiona -- unnoticed by Donkey -- blushed and glanced over at Shrek.  
He was already looking at her, and when their eyes made contact he  
smiled a rueful smile. She smiled shyly back, cast her eyes down to  
her stew and blushed even more deeply.  
  
Donkey continued, "But then she says that she can't just marry  
anybody she wants. She goes on and says about herself, 'who could  
love a beast so hideous and ugly' and how 'princess and ugly don't go  
together' and how she's gotta kiss Farquaad to break the spell, on  
account'a him being her True Love."  
  
"And shortly after that," Fiona added softly, still staring down at  
her stew, "you promised never to tell."  
  
"That's right!" Donkey said, closing his eyes and nodding his head  
proudly. Then he suddenly realized fully what Fiona had said. "OH!"  
the excitable animal stammered. "I thought -- I mean, after the  
wedding and all -- hey, isn't there a statue of limitations or  
somethin' --"  
  
"Never mind, Donkey, it's okay," Fiona said. A smile wistfully  
played on her lips, but it was brief, for as she toyed about her bowl  
with her spoon she could feel Moyre's stare burning into her.  
  
"So," Moyre said, "it didn't even occur to ye that your big ogre  
escort could be your True Love even after a day spent -- how was that  
way ye put it, Donkey?"  
  
"Diggin' on each other," Donkey replied. "Practically all day long.  
Man, you shoulda seen 'em. 'Specially after she let out this great  
big belch an' --"  
  
"Yes, Donkey, we heard ye when ye told us about it earlier," Moyre  
said, her tone reflecting more that a little of the irritation that  
the talkative equine often prompted in her son. Moyre stared at  
Fiona, who was still looking despondently down at her stew and poking  
at it. "WELL, dear?" Moyre goaded.  
  
"Leave her alone, Mom," Shrek said, his tone low but firm.  
  
Moyre looked over at her son with a bit of a surprised expression.  
"I was just asking Fiona a simple qu--"  
  
"Fiona doesn't need t'answer to ANYONE," Shrek growled, staring down  
his mother so intensely that he didn't notice when Fiona lifted her  
eyes and looked over at him, her initial expression of surprise  
quickly changing to one of heartfelt gratitude.  
  
"Well!" Moyre said, somewhat indignantly. "I woulda thought Fiona at  
least capable of answering for hersel--"  
  
"MOYRE!" Groyl joined in. "Please! We've made great progress here  
t'day. It's a very special day, the Day of Reconciliation. Don't go  
fouling things up now. Fiona's had a past like we couldn't BEGIN to  
fathom ourselves. She -- she and Shrek, BOTH -- have struggled  
through a LOT -- both physically and otherwise -- t'get to where they  
are now. We cut Shrek loose to make a life of his own. He's  
accomplished that. NOW our job is t'accept and respect the decisions  
he's made and the life he's created. And I, for one, think he's done  
a FINE job ... ESPECIALLY in his choice of a lifemate."  
  
Fiona looked over at Groyl and offered him a grateful smile. "Thank  
you," she said.  
  
"My pleasure, dear," he said, smiling back.  
  
Moyre gave a little "Humph" and then returned to her own bowl,  
mumbling under her breath, "Well! Seems like SOMEBODY can STILL get  
their head turned by a pretty face even after all these years." She  
then shoveled a spoonful of stew into her mouth.  
  
"Do you really think that, Moyre?" Fiona asked.  
  
Moyre looked up from her bowl, seemingly surprised that Fiona would  
address her. A stray gray tentacle from the stew was trailing from  
between Moyre's lips; she sucked it in like a strand of spaghetti and  
then asked, "Really think WHAT, Fiona?"  
  
"That I'm pretty," Fiona replied simply.  
  
"Of COURSE you're pretty," Moyre said. "Physically, you're stunning.  
Didn't ye KNOW that? Of course, what OGRES regard as physical  
beauty's radically different from what HUMANS think of as --"  
  
"But that's just IT, Moyre!" Fiona said. "When I asked Donkey 'who  
could love a beast so hideous and ugly' -- I was afraid that was how  
SHREK would think of me if he saw me ... like I am now ... as much as  
how anybody else would."  
  
"WHAT?!" Moyre responded incredulously. "Fiona, that makes no sense.  
Shrek was an ogre --"  
  
"And I was RAISED as a human. Moyre, do you know how many stories  
have been written by humans about monstrous beasts who are enamored --  
not by their own kind -- but by fair-haired HUMAN beauties?"  
  
Moyre looked at Fiona, jaw agape. "Are humans really THAT  
egocentric?" she asked.  
  
"Many can be," Fiona replied. "In my case, I was conditioned to  
regard my ogress self as a hideous, loathsome aberration, something  
no man could possibly even consider falling in love with and  
marrying. For love -- for True Love -- I would have to be rescued by  
my Prince Charming, whose kiss would break the spell and 'restore' me  
to full humanity. So I accepted my confinement in the tower, looking  
forward to the day of my rescuer's arrival. But as the years passed  
and would-be rescuers came and ... uh, went ... well, I guess I  
became a little more cynical, and I was willing to lower my  
expectations somewhat --"  
  
"But not to 'lower' them enough," Moyre interrupted in a disapproving  
tone, "that when that day finally came and ye were rescued by -- as  
Donkey said ye put it, 'an ogre and his pet' -- who put their lives  
on the line t'save ye, that ye could do anything but reject him --  
practically spit in his face after what he did for ye."  
  
Fiona blushed in embarrassment. She paused for a moment, and was  
about to reply when Shrek spoke up.  
  
"Oh, c'mon, Mom!" he said. "With her upbringing, how was she  
SUPPOSED to react when she saw that her precious 'rescuer' turned  
out t'be, of all things, an OGRE? B'sides, I didn't risk my life  
t'save HER, I did it t'get my swamp back. She was just a means  
t'that end. And like I told her right then, I WASN'T the one meant  
t'be her hubby, I was just working for Farquaad and that HE was the  
one who wanted t'marry her."  
  
"Yes, ye gave her a nice, convenient 'out', didn't ye,? Moyre asked  
her son.  
  
Shrek was about to reply when Fiona interjected, "Yes, he did. But  
when I spoke of 'lowering' my expectations, Moyre, I was referring to  
lowering them to accept Farquaad, who I thought could break the  
spell, not your son. Your son was --" she looked over at Shrek and  
smiled -- "well beyond ANY 'expectations' I might have held." Fiona  
sighed and looked back down at her bowl. "We were ALL just using  
each other at that point as a means towards our own ends. Farquaad  
was using Shrek, Shrek was using me, Farquaad was using me, and I was  
using Farquaad. It was amazing that True Love could grow out of a  
field sown with such selfish motivations. And yet --" a romantic  
gleam played in her eyes -- "and yet somehow it did."  
  
"I'LL say it did!" Donkey said. "Like a BEANSTALK!"  
  
Fiona smiled again, still staring down at her bowl, and then took a  
chunky spoonful of her stew. Among the morsels of meat and  
vegetables that played across her tongue Fiona felt a particularly  
gelatinous orb. She popped it between her teeth and was enjoying the  
sensation as its liquidly contents oozed down her gullet when Groyl  
spoke.  
  
"Why did that happen, Fiona?" her father-in-law asked. "Why did ye  
change so from the first day -- the day ye was rescued -- from being  
a ... a ..."  
  
"A shrew?" Fiona suggested, unconsciously spraying a small amount of  
the broth that was still in her mouth as she cast a sideways glance  
and grin at Shrek. Her husband suppressed his own grin and attended  
to his own bowl.  
  
"Well ..." Groyl conceded reluctantly, "the way Donkey described ye  
... for lack of a better term ..."  
  
Fiona swallowed the rest of her bite as she waved his concern off  
with the hand that held her spoon. "It's quite all right," she  
laughed. "I'm not sure how much of it was the pristine princess  
being frustrated at seeing her fantasy rescue scenario being so  
twisted, and how much of it was the irascible ogress already managing  
to peek out, but I AM sure that's how Shrek felt about me by the end  
of that first day. But then ... then came that first NIGHT. And as  
I sat huddled there in my damp little cave, the scared not-so-little  
ogress, I heard Shrek and Donkey talking. Now, Groyl, you need to  
understand my peculiar nature and upbringing. Although I alternated  
physical APPEARANCE, inside I remained the same -- always had the  
same feelings, same wants, same desires. And where those deviated  
from the human norm, I was told they were bad, and had to be  
suppressed. I was taught that any -- embarrassing nonconformities --  
were part of the ogre part of my nature, and that ogres were simply  
uncouth brutes who had no feelings beyond surliness and anger and  
irritability. So when I felt those things, it was the ogre trying to  
come out. But when I felt love or joy or compassion -- well, that  
was the human. After all, OGRES don't feel such things. True Love's  
first kiss, I was told, would not only end my physical nighttime --  
regressions -- but would also purge those 'undesirable' elements of  
my inner being as well."  
  
Fiona looked over at Shrek, who was chewing a bite of stew as he  
quietly watched her. She grinned at him and said, "And during that  
first day we met, aside from being braver and more resourceful than I  
would have imagined an ogre being, he pretty much played to the  
stereotype."  
  
Shrek chuckled, and then Fiona reached over and gently laid a hand  
atop his, and turned back to Groyl. "But then that night," she said,  
"I overheard him reveal a glimpse of a being with uncertainties and  
complexities that I would never have believed would exist in the  
simple brutes I was taught that ogres were. 'They judge me before  
they get to know me', he had said. I lay awake much of the rest of  
that night thinking about that -- thinking about him -- thinking  
about ME. For I heard a plaintive tone in that voice that I had  
often felt myself as I'd lay huddled in my bed at night as a little  
ogress back in my father's castle -- a yearning to be accepted for  
who I was, not hidden away as the embarrassing 'worse half' to a  
pristine human princess -- the unfortunate result of an enchantment  
that must be 'broken' and purged." Fiona paused for a moment, then  
shrugged and continued, "Anyway, I decided that the next day I'd try  
to do just what Shrek said -- I'd try to get to know him." Then she  
giggled, and said, "That's really all I intended to do, at first. I  
wasn't planning to -- well, after breakfast he let go this big belch  
..." She looked at Shrek and asked, "You remember that belch I made  
during our first dinner with my Mom and Dad, and how I got so  
defensive and said, 'excuse me', right?"  
  
"How could I forget?" he asked wryly.  
  
"Well, you don't know HOW many times that scene played as I was  
growing up. Such particularly loud and 'obnoxious' belches were  
another one of those distasteful things that was -- mostly rightly in  
this case, it turns out -- attributed to the ogre part of my nature.  
And whenever it happened, I was always made to feel like -- 'well,  
that's the beast part of her rearing its ugly head again'. So when  
Shrek did it with such heartfelt, unapologetic abandon -- I couldn't  
help myself. I had to answer him. For once in my life, with no  
embarrassment or apologies, I just HAD to. And, great HEAVENS, it  
felt so GOOD! Then Donkey made one of the wisest observations of his  
life."  
  
Suddenly all eyes shifted to Donkey, who was in the midst of gnawing  
on a mouthful of salad as, like the others, he had become immersed in  
Fiona's story. Now the embarrassed equine swallowed the mouthful  
down hard, and asked Fiona, "I DID?"  
  
"Surely you remember," she prodded.  
  
"Oh!" Donkey said. "You mean when I told Shrek, 'She's as nasty as  
you are'."  
  
"Precisely," Fiona said, then turned to Groyl again. "For the rest  
of that day, I decided, I'd just be me. Taking my inspiration from  
Shrek, I'd put the pristine princess aside and just go with what I  
felt. For the first -- and for what I thought then would be the only  
-- time in my life, I'd let the repressed ogress inside have  
unfettered reign. It would be her swan song -- or ugly duckling  
song, depending on how you look at it -- before Farquaad's kiss wiped  
away her existence. It was a little hard at first, and it wasn't  
until after I pulled that arrow out of Shrek's butt that I REALLY  
started to relax. But as the day wore on it became more and more  
natural. I assume Donkey's probably filled you in on a lot of the  
details. But from my perspective, I just want to let you know that  
it was one of the most fulfilling, empowering days of my life. From  
the belches to the balloons to the spider-web candy to the weedrat  
dinner, it was marvelous to be so free, and to share that abandon  
with someone like your son, who had no qualms about being his ogre  
self, and even seemed to revel in it. The day before he had  
liberated me from Dragon's castle; now, through his inspiration, he  
helped free my soul, and it immediately seemed to seek out and  
intertwine with his. By the end of that day I was deeply if  
accidentally in love with him ... although I didn't want to admit it.  
For all my previous talk of 'True Love', I never really knew what it  
was. I never had an inkling. Now it had arrived ... and I didn't  
recognize it. Not just yet."  
  
"And yet, for all that, ye still retreated into that windmill that  
night," Moyre observed. "Ye were still afraid to physically show ...  
the other side."  
  
Fiona sighed. "That day was a living dream. But ... the dream was  
over. What can I say? The preconception of who could constitute a  
proper 'True Love' with the proper pedigree to break the spell,  
although warped, was still intact. My fate was sealed and my destiny  
set. I had to marry Farquaad. Only his kiss could break the spell.  
I was a princess. That was just the way it had to be. But then  
Donkey showed up --" here Fiona again smiled at her furry friend  
"-- and started me thinking all over again. Then when he left I found  
this big sunflower mysterious laying outside the door --" here she  
looked over to Shrek, who was staring down into his stew with an  
unreadable expression on his face -- "and -- well, as it turned out,  
I wasn't the first person in this relationship who was willing to  
expand their horizons and take a chance on love. Unfortunately,  
Shrek had, unknown to me at the time, overheard only part of our  
conversation, and thought that when I was speaking so disparagingly  
of myself, and how nobody could love a beast so hideous and ugly,  
that I was talking about him." She sighed sadly, shook her head, and  
then continued. "Ironically, I stayed up the rest of that night  
taking account of -- well, everything, really. Eventually I decided  
that, yes, I WOULD reveal myself to Shrek. My full self -- my ogress  
self. I'd take a chance and tell him. And after that ... well, I  
didn't really know. Although, in the last stages of my internal  
deliberations I started plucking the petals off the flower to  
'decide' whether or not to tell him, I'm sure that by the end of that  
routine, if the last petal had come up 'tell him not', that I would  
have snatched the bulb off the thing to make it come up 'tell him.'  
As it was, by the time I ran out of the windmill to find him, the sun  
was rising and I changed back into human form. And then ..." Here  
Fiona's voice trailed off.  
  
"And then I showed up," Shrek continued for her, looking up. "Like  
Fi said, I thought -- well, I wasn't thinking too clearly then. And  
if she'd mistakenly hurt me the previous evening, I surely hurt her  
worse that morn'. Fi was so afraid that I'd reject her 'cause of  
her ogre state. Even me. And the things I said that morn' made it  
sound like I'd done just that. I can't imagine how devastating that  
was for her."  
  
Fiona smiled wanly and looked down, a little pain playing in the  
corner of her mouth even after all this time. Then she felt Shrek's  
hand slip into hers; she looked over and saw him regarding her  
intently, a contrite look in his eyes. She forced a smile and  
squeezed his hand.  
  
"So we went our sep'rate ways," Shrek continued. "Fiona off t'marry  
Farquaad and me back here to my swamp. Then THAT busy-body decided  
t'get into the act again." Here he nodded with mock irritation  
toward Donkey, who responded with a broad grin, which didn't look too  
well considering he had another mouthfull of salad at the same time.  
"He showed up and straightened me out how I was mistaken 'bout  
Fiona's words the night b'fore. Also just happened t'bring a dragon  
along with him, so off we fly to the wedding -- "  
  
"And to rescue me from the biggest mistake of my life," Fiona  
interjected, a genuine smile returning to her face. "You should have  
seen your son, bravely charging down the aisle of that enormous,  
crowded church, yelling 'I object!'." She started giggling at the  
remembrance.  
  
"But the really brave one was Fiona," Shrek said. "When everybody  
else was laughing at the absurd ogre with the temerity t'fall in love  
with a princess -- when she was just one kiss away from achieving her  
life's goal -- she stepped away. It was late -- the sun was going  
down -- the church had the whole town in there gawking at her -- and  
yet she stepped away." As Shrek spoke the words his voice grew  
heavier and lower with both adoration and admiration. "'I meant  
t'show you b'fore', she said, then just let the change take her. In  
fronta all those people, she just let it take her. Then the crowd  
was treated to the sight of the most lovely ogress in the world --  
'though not one of the idiots could appreciate it."  
  
"Ye really did that, in front of all those humans?" Moyre asked Fiona.  
For the first time Fiona thought she could detect a hint of something  
actually approaching respect in Moyre's voice.  
  
"Yes," Fiona replied, "although it didn't go over very well with  
Farquaad, as you can imagine. Before we knew it we were both  
surrounded and captured by a battalion of his goons, although Shrek  
must have fought off a dozen before they subdued him."  
  
"It wasn't THAT many, Fi," Shrek said, blushing somewhat as a grin  
creased his cheek.  
  
"Well, darn close!" she continued. "But then, HE showed up again,"  
and here Fiona nodded again toward Donkey.  
  
"Along with Dragon," Donkey said, grinning. "She helped."  
  
"Aye," Shrek agreed. "She gobbled Farquaad down like an appetizer  
wiener ... and then ..." Shrek looked over at Fiona.  
  
"And then ..." she echoed, her voice dropping to a whisper as her  
eyes met his.  
  
"True Love's Kiss," Shrek said, his voice dropping to match hers.  
  
"Then at last ..." Fiona concluded, gesturing to herself "... Love's  
True Form."  
  
"Yeah," Donkey added happily, "and then she said, 'I don't understand  
-- I'm 'sposed to be beautiful!'"  
  
"DON-KEY!" both Shrek and Fiona said in unison, turning toward Donkey  
with frustrated glares.  
  
"What'd I say? What'd I say?" Donkey asked, surprised and confused.  
  
Moyre chuckled. "So ye STILL thought -- even after all that -- that  
for your happily ever after -- even with SHREK -- ye had t'be human?"  
  
Fiona sighed deeply, then explained, "Whatever feelings Shrek had  
built for me, he had built them while I was in human form. Recall  
what I said earlier about the stories of 'beasts' falling in love  
with beautiful human maidens. Although he had accepted me -- in ANY  
form -- I thought that he'd still prefer the beautiful human  
princess. But then he looked at me -- just as I am now -- and said --  
and said 'You ARE beautiful' ..." Fiona paused as her voice began  
to crack. She took a moment to recompose herself, wiped away a tear  
that had escaped during this particular recollection, then continued  
"... and then a whole new world opened up for me. And the most  
wonderful part of it was ... I'd get to explore it with your son as  
guide and fellow traveler."  
  
"I see," Moyre said reflectively. "But ye didn't choose --"  
  
"Oh, criminy, Mom!" Shrek blurted. "She chose ME. She was a  
beautiful human princess who literally had men dying to wed her and  
she chose ME. After all her dreams and plans and expectations, after  
being raised t'regard ogres like she was, she still looked past all  
that and loved me for who I AM. Ye should be HAPPY for me."  
  
"I AM happy for ye, Shreklecheh," Moyre replied, "it's just that --"  
  
"Just nothing!" Shrek interrupted. "Like Fiona said, I didn't even  
KNOW about her ogress side when I stormed into that church. I fell  
in love with her for who she WAS, not for what she looked like. And  
if she'd been fully human, and still accepted me, then that woulda  
been fine with me. But you know what my first words were when I saw  
her change? I said, 'that explains a lot.' 'Cause it DID. It  
explained mosta the way she'd been acting. The physical change only  
confirmed what the belch and the weedrats and all the rest hinted at  
... that hidden inside that human body was a person who was every bit  
the ogre -I- was -- and yet much more!"  
  
Moyre sighed. "Shreklecheh, I just --"  
  
"And ye wanna talk more about CHOOSING, Mom?" Shrek continued; his  
blood was up and he was on a roll. "Back in Far Far Away, when I was  
taking that potion to change us both to human -- which I was doing  
because -I- misread certain signals -- ye know what she was doing?  
She was walking out on her parents -- telling them she was going back  
to the swamp with ME. She chose ME then. And then the next night,  
she had t'make the choice of a lifetime. She had her destiny put in  
her hands then, and coulda chose for us to continue on as humans,  
move into her family castle and try and live the 'happily ever after'  
that she'd dreamed of and been raised t'expect. But she didn't do  
that. She chose for us both to resume our ogre forms -- and our  
lives together HERE. If it wasn't for Fiona's choice, Mom, I  
wouldn't even BE an ogre today!"  
  
"Yes you would," Fiona corrected. "But the ogre would have been  
hidden within a human shell. And you would have been expected to  
keep that ogre 'in check'." She chuckled. "Sorry, dear. Been  
there, done that. I didn't want to wish it back on myself, and I  
certainly didn't want to wish it on YOU."  
  
"Yeah, it was awfully sweet, seein' the two of 'em then," Donkey  
added. Then he sighed and said, "Still, sometimes I wished she's  
kissed him anyway, so I'd still be a stallion."  
  
Shrek and Fiona looked over at him. "What're ye TAKING about,  
Donkey?" Shrek asked. "Whether Fiona and I kissed or not didn't  
affect YOU."  
  
Donkey's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "It DIDN'T? But I just  
assumed --"  
  
"Well, ye know what they say about assuming," Shrek said, and a  
corner of his mouth curled into a grin as he saw Fiona give him a  
look of mock reproof. "Weren't ye paying attention when I read the  
potion's instructions? It affected the drinker and their True Love.  
So when I drank it, it affected Fiona. And when you drank it ..."  
Shrek stopped, then looked over at his wife. "That's funny," he  
said. "I hadn't thought of that before."  
  
"Dragon!" Fiona said, and expressions of curiosity spread across both  
ogres' faces. Then they both looked over to Donkey. "Donkey, you  
changed back because you didn't kiss Dragon before midnight," Fiona  
said. "But -- when you changed into a stallion -- what did Dragon  
change into?"  
  
An even more perplexed look crossed the equine's features. "I don't  
know," he said. "She never told me. And ... well, since I didn't  
think she was affected, I never thought to ask her."  
  
Shrek and Fiona looked back at each other and both raised inquisitive  
eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, well," Fiona said, turning back to Donkey. "In any event, I'm  
sure that Dragon was glad to have you back, just as you were meant to  
be, the donkey she fell in love with."  
  
"Oh, heck, no!" Donkey said. "When I told her what happened to ME,  
she said she wished I'd stayed a stallion!" Shrek and Fiona looked  
at each other again, smiled and shook their heads as Donkey  
continued, "She said she's always had a thing for stallions. Said it  
really broke her heart when she'd see one a'gallopin' up to her  
castle and she'd have to roast them along with the knight that rode  
in on 'em. Oh, well, what can ya say? A job's a job."  
  
"So ... your lifemate really IS a ... DRAGON?" Moyre asked the small  
animal, her tone incredulous.  
  
"Hard to believe, ain't it?" Donkey asked. "Well, you know what they  
say, love's full'a surprises."  
  
"And you thought WE had a mixed marriage, eh, Moyre?" Fiona said,  
unable to resist getting a small dig in at her mother-in-law.  
  
The intensity of the icy glare that Moyre shot back at Fiona in  
response took the younger ogress by surprise. Fiona cast her eyes  
over at Groyl to gauge his response, but his eyes were on his wife, a  
wary expression on his face as he sipped broth from his spoon. Fiona  
then looked over at Shrek, but her husband was again staring down at  
his own bowl, an abashed expression on his face. Fiona felt as if  
she'd just committed some embarrassing ogre faux pas.  
  
"That's true," Moyre finally replied, her tone one of restrained  
rebuke. "Some marriages are more mixed than others. But others are  
mixed enough."  
  
As Fiona tried to mentally unpack Moyre's cryptic comment, the elder  
ogress took another spoonful of stew. Immediately Moyre's face  
puckered in disgust and she spat the bite back into her bowl. As the  
three other ogres and Donkey watched with shocked curiosity, Moyre  
took her spoon and fished something out of the bite she had just  
expelled. She held it up. "What's THIS?" she asked.  
  
It was obvious what it was, but Fiona replied anyway, blushing  
somewhat. "It's a mushroom."  
  
"But it's not a slimy black mushroom!" Moyre said.  
  
"Well, no," Fiona conceded, blushing more deeply. "I --"  
  
"Odd Ends Stew should ONLY be made with slimy black mushrooms!" Moyre  
said critically.  
  
"We ran out, so I told her t'use moldy yellow ones," Shrek said,  
taken somewhat aback himself.  
  
"YOU did?" Moyre asked. "But I thought Fiona made the stew."  
  
"I DID," Fiona said, "but ... well, I yield to advice from Shrek.  
He's the real culinary expert in the family. He's been trying to  
teach me all the ogre specialties. Things like Fish Eyes Tar-Tar,  
Swamp Toad Soup --"  
  
"Swamp Toad Soup? Really?" Moyre asked, surprised. "And the  
implications of cannibalism doesn't bother ye?"  
  
"MOYRE!!" Groyl bellowed. But it was too late.  
  
All eyes now focused on Fiona. The ogress simply gawked, mouth and  
eyes wide open, at Moyre for several seconds -- several very silent  
seconds -- as if she couldn't believe what her mother-in-law had  
said. Then Fiona's mouth closed and set, and her eyes narrowed. A  
rumbling could be heard in her throat, and she began to tremble with  
building rage. Her hands began to ball into fists so tightly that  
everyone could hear her knuckles cracking.  
  
"Uh ... Fiona ... sweetheart ..." Shrek began, trying to sound  
soothing, but it was soon apparent she wasn't listening to him.  
  
Fiona finally exploded. "THAT'S IT!!" she yelled, and with both  
fists pounded the table before her with such force that it was a  
credit to Shrek's workmanship that it didn't splinter right there.  
As it was, the table bounced on all four of its legs, and all the  
bowls of stew sitting on the table leapt into the air, spilling most  
of their remaining contents. In the case of Donkey's lighter salad  
bowl, it actually flipped in the air and landed upside-down on the  
top of his snout, spilling the remainder of its contents there.  
  
Fiona was oblivious to the consequences of her blow to the table.  
Her attention was focused like a laser beam elsewhere. She sprang up  
from her seat, sending her chair toppling backwards behind her. Her  
eyes narrowed further, her upper lip curled back from her teeth, and  
she jabbed her right index finger directly towards Moyre as she  
spoke, or rather spat, words that came flooding out like water from a  
dam that had just burst.  
  
"LOOK," Fiona said, "I've tried my BEST to get along with you since  
your arrival for Shrek's sake. Heaven KNOWS he put up with a lot  
when we first visited my father. And I'm sorry if my human origins  
upset some stuck-up sense of ... of ... of OGRE-HOOD that you can't  
seem to get past, even for your son's sake. Hey, I've been on both  
sides. And since I openly adopted this form, I've been on the  
receiving end of a few mindless assaults by ignorant villagers, too.  
I admit that must have been just a TASTE of what YOU all must have  
grown up with, and so I've been willing to overlook most of your  
snide little humaphobic gibes. But when you start insulting my OWN  
family, and mock my father because of HIS condition ... well, lady,  
you just crossed a line! If you don't like me, then FINE, but not  
because of what my parents are --"  
  
"But that's just IT!" Moyre shot back as she stood as well. "It's  
not what your parents ARE, but what they are NOT! It's THAT that  
makes all the difference, as I'm sure ye well know!"  
  
"MOM!" Shrek tried to intervene.  
  
Fiona was still furious, but now she was becoming confused as well.  
"What are you TALKING about?!" she demanded of her mother-in-law.  
  
"Surely Shreklecheh has TOLD ye!" Moyre asserted.  
  
Fiona's blazing eyes shot down towards her husband, who quickly  
looked away, blushing deeply. "TOLD ME WHAT?!" she demanded, as much  
of him as of her.  
  
"HOW YOU'RE NOT REALLY MARRIED!" Moyre responded.  
  
Fiona's eyes shot back to Moyre, but their fire had suddenly gone  
out. Her flushed skin suddenly dropped its hue until it looked  
nearly pale.  
  
Then the fire in Moyre's eyes went out as well. "Oh m'God!" she  
gasped, "He DIDN'T tell ye, did he?"  
  
Fiona looked down at Shrek, who had gone as pale as she and was still  
looking away uncomfortably. "Shrek," she asked, her voice now just  
above a whisper, "is this true?"  
  
"Of COURSE not!" he suddenly bellowed, looking back up at her. "We  
were married in a proper ceremony --"  
  
"A proper HUMAN ceremony," Moyre corrected.  
  
"Humans weren't the only ones there!" Shrek retorted.  
  
"But it was NOT an OGRE ceremony!" Moyre said.  
  
"It was perfectly legal and binding!" Shrek countered.  
  
"But not SANCTIONED by ogre marriage tradition!" Moyre responded.  
"As such, your marriage cannot be recognized as valid by the ogre  
community!"  
  
"Well, the 'ogre community' can go take a flying leap into the  
deepest, darkest swamp on this PLANET!" Shrek sneered. "Fiona and I  
are --" Here Shrek looked over to Fiona, and noticed that she was  
staring off into space and trembling again, although not with anger  
this time. He saw her knees were about to buckle, and so he quickly  
reached down and lifted her chair back up a split second before she  
collapsed into it. She looked over at him, apparently in a daze.  
  
"Is this it ... the secret you were going to tell me?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," he said, then added in as reassuring a tone as possible, "but  
it doesn't matter. Fiona, we ARE wed. Legally, and more important  
than that, spiritually. Some stupid, outdated, idiotic ogre customs  
don't matter diddly squat!"  
  
"If they didn't matter," Fiona asked, "then why didn't you simply  
tell me before?"  
  
Shrek blushed again. "I thought ... I was afraid ... it WOULD matter  
... to YOU."  
  
A sad, ironic smile played on Fiona's lips. "Well ... you thought  
right."  
  
Moyre also sat. "Oh, Fiona," she said, her voice actually taking on  
a tone of commiseration. "I'm sorry. I thought ye knew, and simply  
chose t'go through this human ceremony anyway." Moyre looked  
reproachfully over at Shrek as she added. "It was HIS responsibility  
t'tell ye."  
  
"Oh, Moyre, please!" Groyl said impatiently. "They're young, and  
they're in love. Have ye forgotten how impetuous ye can be in such  
circumstances?"  
  
"But it's her future, and her children --" Moyre began, then, seeing  
Groyl flash her a particularly cross look, stopped talking.  
  
But Fiona had picked up on where Moyre was going. "Our children,"  
Fiona continued, her voice distant and shell-shocked, "will not be  
regarded as ... authentic ogres by the ogre community. Will they?"  
  
Moyre responded by giving a Fiona a pained but sympathetic look, and  
then dropping her eyes.  
  
They all sat in silence for several seconds, then Donkey spoke up.  
"Ah, waitaminute," he said tentatively. "If I might venture a dumb  
animal question here, if this ogre-type ceremony is so all-fired  
important, why don'cha just HAVE one? Get married AGAIN. There's no  
LAW against it, is there?"  
  
Fiona looked over at Donkey, and felt herself brighten somewhat.  
Again, another gem of horse sense seemed to have come forth from  
their equine friend as he appeared to have derived a direct and  
simple solution. She looked towards her in-laws, but saw that they  
were not sharing her glimmer of hope.  
  
It was Groyl who, seeing the desperate question reflected in Fiona's  
eyes, answered her this time. "I'm afraid, dear, that ogre marriage  
ceremonies are by tradition only performed for ogres who are of pure  
... well, who have parents who are both ogres as well. There are no  
... mixed marriages allowed. That's what Moyre was referring to  
earlier."  
  
Fiona now felt her spirits drop even lower than before. She looked  
over at Shrek and saw his pained expression as he looked back at her,  
groping for words to say.  
  
"Fiona," he began, "I --"  
  
"I'm shut out, aren't I?" she interrupted, her voice listless and  
resigned.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'll never be accepted. No matter how hard I try, I can't be. And  
our children will bear my stigma."  
  
"Fiona, that's nonsense! Our children will be proud ogres, and we  
don't need the sanction of some close-minded, outmoded institution to  
give them OR you authenticity! Ye've already earned it through the  
strength of your character!"  
  
Fiona sat quietly for a few moments as tears began to well in her  
eyes. Then with a loud sob she shot up out of her chair and ran into  
their bedroom. She stopped as she crossed its threshold, looked back  
and saw Shrek following her. She grabbed the door and slammed it  
nearly in his face, then after pausing for a second, threw closed the  
bolt that latched the door. A moment later she heard Shrek try the  
doorknob in vain, then heard his desperate knock on the door.  
"Fiona!" he called. "Fiona, please! We need t'talk about this!  
Fiona!"  
  
Fiona backed away from the door, then turned and threw herself onto  
the bed. She grabbed one of the pillows and covered her face again,  
but this time for a much longer period of time as she poured forth an  
incessant torrent of tears and muffled wails.  
  



	7. Layer 6: Tangling the Web

Layer 6: Tangling the Web

The sheriff strode down the dirt road that made up Main Street in   
Typical, his gait bold and confident, a stern expression on his face   
as he surveyed the simple houses that stood to either side of the   
thoroughfare. People that passed by him heading the opposite way   
tended to glance meekly away and alter their path somewhat lest that   
icy glare fall upon them. It was not that the sheriff was   
aggressive -- or even discourteous. When his eyes chanced upon   
someone, he would nod in a stiffly polite if wordless   
acknowledgement. But it was just the brief experience of having   
that dark, penetrating glare upon them that made people feel as if   
the man were somehow peering into their soul and instantaneously   
taking account of every foul deed or thought they had ever had. The   
sheriff cast a disquieting, intimidating presence ... which was just   
how he liked it.

But now, as he strode down the street, there were, for a change, a   
pair of eyes actually seeking him out.

Those eyes peeked out from behind one of those houses that lined the   
dirt road; specifically, the residence nearest across the street   
from the jailhouse, it being the sheriff's presumed destination.   
And those eyes belonged to Geremiah Feldgud.

Feldgud watched as the sheriff advanced down the street with his   
long, steady, almost bouncingly rhythmic strides. As he watched him   
walk, Feldgud started hearing music welling up in the back of his   
mind -- music with a steady, driving beat that matched the sheriff's   
pace. Unbidden and unwelcome, it continued building there with each   
step until Feldgud suddenly thought he heard a chorus of falsetto   
male voices start singing something about 'staying alive' --

Speaking of staying alive, the sheriff began to cast a glance toward   
the house behind whose corner Feldgud peered, and the villager   
quickly and awkwardly stepped back out of the lawman's eyeshot.   
Unfortunately, the unannounced movement caused him to collide with   
another person who had also been watching the sheriff, peeking   
around Feldgud as Feldgud peeked around the back of the house.   
Feldgud's companion uttered a sharp little cry of surprise and   
irritation at the sudden, unexpected contact.

"SHHHH!" Feldgud hissed, raising an index finger to his lips. Then   
he whispered hoarsely, "Quiet, Bo!"

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Gerry, he can't hear us way over here!"   
Feldgud's female companion retorted. "You act like he's got the   
ears of an ogre!"

"SHHHH!" Feldgud repeated. Then he whispered, "Maybe not, but you   
can't be too careful!"

The woman -- 'Bo' -- shook her head disapprovingly and let out an   
irascible grunt. She was in her early twenties with yellowish-blond   
hair that flowed down from beneath a pink bonnet and was styled into   
a bun in back. She had a pleasant face and an hour-glass figure   
over which she wore a dress which featured a pink top part that   
laced together across the front, and then a long white skirt spotted   
with pink polka-dots that hung from her waist down to her ankles.   
Her hour-glass figure was accentuated by a corset she wore   
underneath that forced her waist even thinner and pushed her already   
shapely bosom upward so that the top part of her cleavage was   
discernable above the lacing of her blouse. In one hand she loosely   
carried a long shepherd's crook staff.

"Gerry, if you're so scared, why are you doing this at all?" she   
scolded him. "Why not just --"

"I'm not scared!" Feldgud objected. "I'm just ... careful."

"Yeah, right," Bo responded, smirking.

Feldgud decided to ignore her, and peeked out again from behind the   
house just in time to see the sheriff disappear thought the doorway   
of the jailhouse and shut the door behind him.

"Okay, he's in there," Feldgud said, turning back to her. "Time to   
do your thing!"

"And just to make sure we understand what 'my thing' is worth," she   
responded, "you and/or your fellow serfer boys agree to watch over   
my flock for a month while I take a vacation from this po-hick   
seigniory. Right?"

"Yes, Bo, yes!" Feldgud said, apparently in a hurry for her to get   
started, "Just as we agreed. As long as you can keep the sheriff   
distracted ... keep his attention on the meadows to the direction   
from the village OPPOSITE that of the Devil's Drainpipe for the next   
few hours -- "

"And you swear to replace or pay for any of the sheep that end up   
missing in my absence?"

"Of COURSE Bo," Feldgud agreed. "Jeez, you want a written   
contract?"

"Yes, actually," Bo replied, then added with great reluctance, "but   
your word will have to do." Then she sighed, leaned on her staff   
and stared off into space, a dreamy expression suddenly coming   
across her face. "Still," she said reflectively, "if you come   
through, it'll be worth it."

Feldgud, his curiosity temporarily overcoming his anxiousness,   
asked, "So where are you going on this ... vacation?"

"Far Far Away," she replied wistfully.

"Away to where?" Feldgud asked.

Bo looked over at Feldgud, her reverie broken. "No, you moron!" she   
said. "To the KINGDOM of Far Far Away!"

"Really?" This time it was Feldgud's turn to sound skeptical. "I   
don't know, Bo. I hear the cost of living's awfully expensive over   
there. You sure you can afford it on a shepherdess's pay?"

"First of all, it's not 'shepherdess', it's 'flock attendant'," she   
corrected him indignantly. "And secondly, I'm pretty sure I can   
crash with a cousin of mine. He's a musician who works one of the   
snazzier nightclubs there. He used to be in the shepherding   
business, too, but ended up getting canned for inattentiveness. It   
worked out well, though, 'cause now he's hit it pretty big. Maybe   
you've heard of him. He's a horn player, goes by the name of   
'Sleepy Boy'. He specializes in the blues."

"No, sorry," Feldgud said, sparing another peek at the jailhouse.   
"I'm pretty much a minstrel show man myself."

"Figures," she said dismissively. "Anyway, I'm hoping that while   
I'm there that Sleepy Boy might be able to pull some strings and   
help get me back on the road to my REAL career."

"Your REAL career?" Feldgud repeated, now curious, and looked back   
at Bo.

"Sure," she said. "You didn't think 'Bo Peep' was my REAL name, did   
you?"

"Well ... I didn't know ... I assumed ..." Feldgud stammered.

She smiled ruefully and said, "Nope. It's my stage name. I'm a   
showgirl. And now ..." here Bo took a few moments to fuss with the   
front of her dress until a bit more of her cleavage was highlighted   
"... it's Showtime!"

"That's -- that's great, Bo," Feldgud stammered, then forced his   
eyes away from Bo's -- rearrangements -- and back to her face. "As   
long as you can keep the sheriff distracted --"

"Don't worry, honey," she said confidently. "Bo KNOWS   
distractions."

With those words, Bo boldly stepped from behind the house and began   
sashaying towards the jailhouse. Watching her move as he resumed   
his clandestine observation post, Feldgud was quite certain that   
distractions surely were one of her specialties. He was just   
wetting his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue when Bo   
reached the edge of the road, stopped, and looked back towards him.   
"Have fun with the sheep!" she said, a little smirk playing one   
corner of her mouth, then she turned back towards the jailhouse and   
began crossing the street.

---------------------------------------------------

Bo burst through the door of the jailhouse. There she saw the   
sheriff sitting behind his desk, his feet casually propped up atop   
it, and a magazine in his lap. The magazine was titled 'Modern   
Crime Prevention Technology' and had a picture of a mace on the   
front cover.

"Oh, Sheriff!" Bo cried, sounding as if she were out of breath and   
in a near panic. "I need your help!"

The sheriff glanced up at her from his magazine, his muted   
expression a combination of irritation and restrained curiosity. He   
asked, "Can I help you, Ms ... Ms ... ?"

"Peep," she replied, hurrying forward until she stood just in front   
of his desk. "MISS Bo Peep. I tend sheep in the meadows south of   
the village. Or I DID, but now ... well, I seem to have lost them   
and ... and ... I just don't know where to find them!"

"Hum," the sheriff grunted, even the mild hint of curiosity now gone   
from his voice. "Well, Miss, it's been my experience that if you   
just leave them alone that they'll usually come home, in most cases   
wagging their tails behind them."

"Oh, but Sheriff, you don't understand!" Bo implored. "It's very   
important that I find these sheep as soon as possible! I'll do   
anything if you could just help me!" Here Bo leaned over the desk   
pleadingly, placing her hands atop it and giving the sheriff a   
closer and better view of the top of her rearranged blouse.   
"ANYTHING!"

The sheriff observed the proffered view for a few moments, his face   
stern and his expression wary. Then he looked up at Bo, cocked an   
eyebrow, and said, "Miss Peep, if you're attempting to --"

Bo quickly stood back up and then continued, her tone still one of   
innocent desperation, "I've already tried searching around SO hard!   
I've done it across meadows, through woods, around streams ... and   
now I'm EXHAUSTED! Here, see --" Bo propped one of her feet up on   
the desk and pulled her dress back, exposing the shapely bare leg up   
to a few inches above the knee. "You see how swollen my leg is?" she   
asked, injecting just a mild touch of suggestiveness into her tone.

"Miss Peep," the sheriff asked wearily, "are you trying to seduce   
me?"

"Why, certainly NOT!" Bo said with exaggerated indignation, dropping   
her leg from the table with a stomp and looking defiantly at the   
sheriff. "I'm a desperate woman, and I came to you for ...HELP.   
But if YOU'RE not capable of helping me, then perhaps I should find   
another man who IS!"

The sheriff heaved an annoyed sigh, then lowered his own legs from   
off the table and tossed the magazine aside. "Sorry, Miss Peep," he   
said. "But I'm rather determined to keep my position here in   
Typical on a strictly professional level. I've had some ...   
difficulties ... in previous positions with maids ... not to mention   
NON-maids." He ignored the venomous look she shot him as he reached   
into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a parchment and quill.   
"Here," he said, handing them towards Bo. "Fill in this missing   
sheep report. If they don't come home within twenty-four hours then   
I'll launch an investigation."

"But ... but ... but you don't UNDERSTAND!" Bo stammered. "In that   
part of the meadows we've ... we've had problems with ... sheep   
rustlers!"

Suddenly a gleam appeared in the sheriff's eyes. "Sheep rustlers?"   
he repeated, his interest obviously piqued.

"Yes!" Bo said, glad she'd found bait he might take. "They've been   
a terrible nuisance to sheep farmers from down in that area, and I'm   
afraid that if we wait too long, my sheep might be gone forever!"

"Well, that's a bit different," the sheriff said, returning the   
parchment and quill to the desk drawer. "Why didn't you say that in   
the first place?"

Bo tried to think of a response, and was relieved when she realized   
that he had meant the question rhetorically as he stood up from his   
desk and walked over to a cabinet set against a wall. "Please don't   
think I don't sympathize with your plight, Miss Peep," he explained,   
"but, frankly, for me it will be a welcome change of pace from this   
normally boring job to be able to mix it up with such scoundrels."   
He took a set of keys out of a pocket and unlocked the cabinet, and   
from it he pulled out a crossbow with a strap across it which he   
slung across one shoulder, and a quiver of bolts he strapped around   
his waist. Then he withdrew a rolled-up length of rope and hung it   
across his other shoulder. He then closed and re-locked the   
cabinet, re-pocketed the keys, then strode over to a nearby hat   
stand from which he took a brown Stetson cowboy hat. He reached   
inside the hat, withdrew a red bandana, placed the hat on his head   
and then tied the bandana around his neck. Next he turned back to   
Bo and said, "I'm going out back to retrieve my horse. If you'll be   
so kind as to meet me in front, then we'll ride out to your meadow   
and see about this missing sheep business."

"Oh, THANK you, Sheriff!" Bo said, her voice heavily honeyed with   
gratitude.

The sheriff tipped his hat. "Not at all, Ma'am," he said, then   
disappeared out a door in back.

Bo exited through the front door and stood on the porch of the   
jailhouse. She looked at the house across the street, and after a   
moment saw Feldgud peer out from behind it. She glanced around to   
make sure she wasn't being watched, then flashed him a quick,   
clandestine thumbs-up sign. He nodded, then disappeared back behind   
the house.

A few seconds later Bo heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves and   
turned to see the sheriff riding up from the alley beside the   
jailhouse on a large, handsome, cream-colored stallion. The sheriff   
stopped the horse beside her, held out an upturned hand towards her,   
and said, "Crook."

Bo blinked. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

The sheriff gestured towards her staff. "Your shepherd's crook," he   
explained.

"Oh!" she said, relieved. "Uh ... certainly." She handed him the   
staff, which he took and slid in beside the saddlebags. He then   
reached a hand down towards her again.

"Here you go, Ma'am," he said. "Let me help you up."

"Oh ... I don't know ..." She said dubiously, her eyes scanning the   
breadth of the large horse.

"It'll be fine, Miss Peep," he said reassuringly.

"Well ... all right ..." Bo said tentatively, then carefully reached   
for the sheriff's hand. To her surprise, he reached down passed her   
hand, seized her arm, and with surprising strength and coordination   
lifted her up off the ground to where she was sitting on the horse   
just behind him. It was all done with one swift motion and left Bo   
breathless ... and impressed.

"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked.

"Why ... yes ... thank you, Sheriff," she responded.

"You'd best get a good hold, Miss Peep," he said. "We may be in for   
a bumpy ride."

"Okay," she agreed, and slid her arms around his waist -- his slim,   
taught waist, as she could feel even through his garment -- and   
locked her hands just below his muscular chest. Then she leaned   
slightly against his broad, strong back.

"Oh, my!" Bo sighed heavily.

"What's that, Miss Peep?" the sheriff asked.

"Oh! My ... my ... sheep!" Bo responded. "I just hope we can find   
my sheep!"

"We'll do our best," he promised, and with a flick of his spurs and   
a grunted "gidyap" sent the horse trotting down the street ... until   
he stopped it after just a few paces and jerked its reins to have it   
turn the opposite way. He then peered down the street like an eagle   
eyeing its prey.

"What's wrong?" Bo asked, and then followed his gaze. She was glad   
he couldn't see her, for he would surely have noticed her blush as   
she saw Feldgud scurrying down the street some fifty yards away.   
The villager stopped for a moment, as if he could feel the heat at   
the base of his skull, and turned around. He saw the sheriff   
looking at him and gave a start, and Bo could swear she saw the   
blood drain from his face even from this distance. Feldgud then   
quickly turned back around and resumed his scurry at a slightly   
quicker pace than before.

"That's Feldgud," the sheriff said, his tone thoughtful. "He's a   
troublemaker. I gave him a dressing-down earlier today. I wonder   
what HE's up to now."

Bo took a few seconds to recompose herself and think, then ventured,   
"Well, if YOU gave him a warning just today, then I'm SURE the man   
wouldn't be stupid enough to try something mischievous so soon,   
Sheriff. Would he?"

The sheriff seemed to mull that over for a few seconds, then gave a   
grunt of what Bo assumed was agreement. He then turned the horse   
back around and they began riding off in the direction opposite   
Feldgud ... and the Devil's Drainpipe.


	8. Layer 7: Sins of Omission

Layer 7: Sins of Omission

Shrek pounded on the bedroom door once more. "Fiona, sweetheart,   
please!" he pleaded.

There was still no answer, as there hadn't been for ten minutes.

Shrek held an ear up to the door and listened closely. He could   
still make out the occasional sound of a muffled sob. He stepped   
back from the door and looked morosely down, his ears drooping.

"Shrek, how could ye not TELL her?" Moyre asked scoldingly. She had   
left the table and was now standing just a few feet behind him.

"And how could YOU just drop it on her like that, Mom?" Shrek shot   
back, his ears resuming their normal posture as his temper rose.

"Well SOMEBODY had t'tell her!"

"To what end, Mom?" Shrek asked, his voice both angry and pained.   
"We were doing just FINE as we were. And she was adjusting GREAT!   
She was finally learning t'be herself -- her OGRESS self --   
t'explore her full potential and get over all that garbage that the   
humans had lain on top'a her ever since she could remember. And now   
you're saying I was supposed t'pile even MORE garbage against her   
from the OGRE side, show her some'a US can be even MORE stuck up and   
prejudicial than the bloody HUMANS?"

"She should have been able t'KNOW what she was getting into --"

"She KNEW what she was getting into! A MARRIAGE! With ME! US!   
ALONE! NOBODY ELSE! LEAST of all any PIOUS, POMPOUS, SANCTOMONIOUS   
OGRES who feel they have the RIGHT t'dictate to others what makes   
for a 'PROPER' ogre couple! And like I said, I'd have wanted her   
even IF she never changed into an ogress --"

"But she DID change, Shreklecheh! And once she did, ye OWED it to   
her t'tell her ye two wouldn't be accepted --"

"But we ARE accepted. By EACH OTHER. And by the RIGHT people.   
Even her PARENTS, when we first met, at least accepted the FACT of   
our marriage. They didn't LIKE it, but they recognized its   
EXISTENCE. And ye talk like all ogres are the same. I've heard'a   
LOTS of ogre couples where one or the other didn't have the proper   
'pedigree' -- and even a few who DID -- who got married WITHOUT the   
traditional rituals, and they're doing just FINE, thank ye. Except   
for maybe the occasional, butinsky IN-LAWS with their snotty,   
snobbish, intolerant attitudes, like YOU showed to FIONA --"

"I thought she'd DISHONORED you, Shreklecheh! When I found out ye'd   
married a girl who didn't have even ONE ogre parent, let alone TWO --  
and one of whom was a FROG, no less -- I thought she's just   
waltzed in, without respect for ogre traditions, and --"

"Well YOU thought WRONG! For the love of Pete, weren't ye listening   
to ANYTHING we told ye during dinner? And did ye think that MAYBE,   
before coming on like the mother-in-law from down below with your   
cynical presumptions, ye should've tried COMMUNICATING with me?"

"HA!" Moyre laughed. "Look WHO'S lecturing WHO on COMMUNICATION!"

"ENOUGH!!" Groyl bellowed in a voice that commanded attention.   
Shrek and Moyre immediately ceased their arguing and looked over at   
him where he still sat at one end of the table.

"You're BOTH wrong, and ye've BOTH wronged HER!" he said, pointing a   
finger toward the locked bedroom door.

"But he --" Moyre began.

"MOYRE!" Groyl interrupted her, and rose from his chair. "I WARNED   
ye on the way over here not t'go acting on your assumptions. I TOLD   
ye t'give her a chance. And even though we BOTH presumed that Shrek   
AND Fiona had both known they'd not be recognized by some ogres and   
had gone through with the marriage anyway, I told ye it was THEIR   
decision and that WE had no right t'judge them. Didn't I?"

"Well ... but --"

"DIDN'T I?"

Moyre scowled at her husband, then replied, "Yessss," the 's' sound   
being drawn out like a hiss.

"Then maybe ye shouldn't have judged her before ye got t'know her.   
Eh?" Groyl asked.

Moyre glared back at him. "Apparently so," she managed to say   
through clenched teeth.

"Now, please," Groyl said, his voice softening. "I'd like t'speak   
to Shrek. Alone."

"But --" Moyre began to protest.

"Please, dear," Groyl said. There was no longer any bitterness or   
reproach in his voice.

Moyre looked back at her son -- but saw that he was again staring   
forlornly at the closed bedroom door. Then she looked over at the   
table where Donkey still sat, taking everything in with an   
expression of part curiosity and part confusion, and considered   
pointing out that they would not be 'alone' with him there, but then   
decided against it. "Very well," she said reluctantly. "I'll be   
right outside." With that, Moyre strode across to the front door of   
the house, opened it, exited the house, and closed the door firmly   
behind her.

---------------------------------------------------

From his perch atop the grassy knoll, the Piper saw the front door   
open and the ogress exit, shutting the door behind her. How   
convenient of her, he thought as a sinister smile creased his   
cheeks. He swallowed the last bit of the snack pie that he was   
chewing -- his second since he had settled in to wait -- and   
carefully reached for his chalumeau ...

---------------------------------------------------

Moyre absently gazed around the clearing in front of the swamp, her   
eyes finally coming to rest on a wooden sign at the far end. Its   
back was to her now, but she remembered noticing it when they had   
first arrived. It had originally been a hand-painted rendition of   
Shrek's snarling face with the words 'Beware! Ogre' scrawled across   
the bottom, but it had since been altered as Shrek had tacked next   
to his image a similarly hand-pained rendition of Fiona's snarling   
face and he had also tacked on an 's' after the word 'Ogre'. It was   
very sweet in its way, but Moyre had mostly overlooked it, as her   
seething presumptions had clouded it out of her mind.

"I mostly overlooked a LOT of things, I suppose," Moyre muttered to   
herself, then sighed and sat on the porch. A moment later she felt   
something furry and living rub against her hand. She instinctively   
jerked her hand away and looked down with a start.

It was the little white puppy. It had apparently slipped outside   
with her, and was now sitting beside her. The small canine looked up   
at Moyre, gave a couple of brief, happy barks, and wagged its tail.

At first Moyre scowled down at the silly little dog. But after a   
short while of beholding its innocently exuberant little face, the   
ogress felt herself start to relent. "My, YOU'RE a sneaky one,"   
Moyre eventually said. Then she reached down and gently petted the   
dog. It wagged its tail even faster and licked her hand.

Moyre smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I rather fouled things up for your   
masters in there," she said to Puppy. "Poor Fiona. If I'd only   
known. I must've sounded terribly cruel. And it turns out,   
ironically, SHE's the one who gives a darn about the ogre marriage   
tradition, and realizes its importance for her children. To   
Shreklecheh, it's just so much hokum." She took a few moments to   
reflect, then shook her head. "I never thought I'd hear myself say   
this, but maybe he's RIGHT. Two people who love each other ... care   
about each other as much as they seem to ... what's the POINT of   
having a marriage tradition if it excludes a pair so ... so RIGHT   
for each other as those two? I just wish I can find some way t'make   
it up to Fiona ... something I can do for her --"

Just then Moyre's thoughts were interrupted as she heard the first   
strands of music. Her ears pricked up at the sound of the   
chalumeau, and she began to turn in its direction. But suddenly she   
couldn't turn -- she couldn't do ANYTHING. She tried moving her   
head -- her hands -- her mouth -- but NONE of her muscles seemed to   
want to obey her. Then, suddenly, she stood -- but she had not   
WANTED to stand. Moyre felt inner panic as she realized that   
someone or something else had suddenly taken control of her body.   
Then she began to walk. It was a slow, steady walk that she didn't   
want to take, and it was leading her across the clearing and away   
from her son's house, apparently in step with that rhythmic   
chalumeau music she kept hearing playing in her head. Puppy,   
seeming to sense that something was amiss, barked a couple of times,   
then followed along beside Moyre, looking up at her empty expression   
every so often and whining.

---------------------------------------------------

Shrek was still staring at the shut bedroom door when he felt his   
father's firm hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Son. Sit."

"But Dad --"

"Please."

Shrek sighed, then nodded and allowed his father to lead him over to   
the easy chair. Shrek collapsed into it, immediately assuming a   
slouched, limp-eared posture as his father sat in a wooden chair in   
front of him.

"Your mother was right, ye know," Groyl said calmly. "Ye should   
have told Fiona b'fore."

Shrek's eyes shot up at his father. "Dad --" he began, belligerence   
building in his voice.

"Son," Groyl responded, his voice firm but not combative.

Shrek sighed, then looked back down. "I know," he responded   
dejectedly. "But Dad, what was I t'do? After Fiona descended from   
that big shiny cloud after having the spell broke, and we realized   
she was an ogress permanently ... what was I t'do? Say, 'Gee,   
sorry, Princess, but I'm afraid ye don't have the proper background   
t'be regarded as a true ogre wife. Maybe ye'd like to shack up for   
a while instead?'"

"I didn't say ye were wrong in marrying her in the manner ye did, I   
said ye were wrong in not telling her all that entailed BEFORE ye   
said your 'I do's'," Groyl corrected.

"Okay," Shrek conceded reluctantly. "Point taken. But Dad, ye   
don't understand. When I looked at her, and saw what t'me was the   
most beautiful ogress in the world, and it was a beauty that went so   
very far beyond the physical ... and she'd just given up so much for   
me, and now she was left as this vulnerable, insecure ogress who'd   
only been told all her life, in attitude if not words, how   
disappointed -- how REPULSED -- people were by her appearance and   
mannerisms ... how could I then ADD to all that by telling her about   
the insipid 'ogre pedigree' thing? Dad, there was no real question   
in my mind ... or heart ... that I HAD t'marry her. She was every   
dream I'd never dared dream, every wish I thought too crazy t'come   
true, every blessing I never deserved. She completed every gap in   
my being, those I knew I had and lots I didn't even realize until   
this ... this miracle came into my life. And then I asked her   
t'marry me, and she said yes, and she had these ideas of what a   
wedding should be ... I just didn't have the heart ... or the guts   
... to say or do anything that might damage her dream. No, OUR   
dream. And if it came to a choice between being Fiona's husband and   
being an ogre ... well, Dad, I made that choice once already when I   
drank that potion, and I'd gladly choose again the same way if it   
would make her happy." Shrek sighed glumly. "Maybe I shouldn't   
have asked her what she wanted that night at the ball when the clock   
was striking midnight. Maybe I shoulda just gone ahead and kissed   
her."

"What?" Fiona said. "And cause me to loose the ogre I married? I   
don't THINK so."

All eyes quickly turned to see Fiona standing in the now open   
doorway of the bedroom. She was leaning against one of the   
doorposts, not entirely steady on her feet. She was looking at   
Shrek through red-rimmed eyes, and offering a tentative, quivering   
smile.

"Fiona!" Shrek gasped, jumping to his feet. "How long have YOU been   
there?"

"Long enough," she said, trying to sound coy but unable to sponge   
all the hurt from her voice. "As I said before, my good knight,   
thou dost have a way with words."

Shrek hurried over to her side and took her hands in his. He felt   
her lean against him slightly to try and maintain her balance. "Oh,   
sweetheart," Shrek said in a grief-stricken voice, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry ... about which?" she asked. "That you didn't tell me ... or   
that your mother did?"

Shrek sighed ... hesitated a few moments ... then finally admitted,   
"Both, actually."

"So ... if your parents had never shown up ... when were YOU   
planning on telling me?" Fiona asked.

Shrek hesitated again. "Well ... I ... um ..." he stammered,   
finding it hard to think with Fiona's piercing eyes focused so   
intently upon him.

"Ever?" she asked. "Or were you going to wait until one day when   
one of our children came home crying because some ogre bully made   
fun of him because his parents weren't properly married?"

"No!" Shrek said. "I was going t'tell ye ... when ye felt more   
confident."

Fiona's expression changed to one of uncertainty. "More confident   
... in being an ogre?" she asked.

"No," Shrek replied. "More confident in being yourself. 'Ogre' or   
non-'ogre' be hanged. As I said b'fore, Fi, you're a unique being.   
So BE yourself, Fiona. Your authentic SELF. Stop worrying about   
labels that people -- human OR ogre -- try t'impose based on their   
prejudices and biases and myopic traditions. If we didn't overcome   
those things in ourselves, Fi, we wouldn't be wed at all; you'd be   
living somewhere in Duloc as Mrs. Farquaad and I'd be sitting here   
alone watching the moss grow."

Fiona finally offered Shrek a genuine smile, but it quickly   
evaporated as she said, "But our children ..." Her voice faded   
away.

Shrek sighed again, then opened his mouth to speak when Donkey   
suddenly said, "Excuse me! I hate to interrupt this little episode   
of 'Days of Ogre Lives', but --"

"Not NOW, Donkey," Shrek said sternly, casting a forbidding glare at   
his friend.

Donkey ignored him and addressed Fiona. "Princess, maybe I missed   
somethin', but you still look like an ogre to me."

"Well, yes, Donkey," Fiona said, somewhat flustered, "I --"

"And Shrek's still an ogre ..." Donkey continued.

"Your POINT, Donkey?" Shrek prodded impatiently.

"My point IS, I might not be a stallion anymore, but I can still   
count up two and two and get four. At least I THINK it's four. But   
anyway, ogre parents have ogre kids. Right?"

"Well, yes," Fiona admitted, "but --"

"So why are y'all pilin' so much baggage on top'a somethin' so   
simple?" Donkey asked.

Fiona looked over at Shrek, a plea for assistance in her eyes. But   
Shrek smiled a sly smile and said, "Well! It seems he really DOES   
have a point, after all."

Fiona let out a frustrated groan, then stepped to where she stood in   
front of Donkey and knelt down to where their faces were closer to a   
level plane. "The problem, Donkey," she explained, "is that because   
Shrek and I weren't married -- and can't be married -- in an ogre   
ceremony, our marriage isn't recognized as valid by other ogres."

"Yeah, I remember that part from earlier," Donkey said. He cocked a   
contemplative eyebrow, then looked over to Groyl, who was standing   
now by Shrek's easy chair, arms folded, observing the proceedings.   
"Hey, Groyl!" Donkey called. "You're an ogre, right?"

"Oh, aye," Groyl agreed.

"You recognize Shrek n' Fiona as married?"

"Indeed I do," he replied. "In fact, there are many ogres who don't   
feel as bound by tradition who'd gladly recognize them as well."

"There!" Donkey said excitedly, turning back to Fiona. "Ya see?"

"Many," Fiona said, looking up at Groyl, "but not MOST?"

"Aye," Groyl admitted reluctantly, "not most."

"So YOU see, Donkey?" Fiona asked, looking back at her friend. "In   
most cases, we aren't recognized, and so our children would ...   
well, they wouldn't be regarded as ... authentic ogres born from a   
valid marriage."

"Yeah, whatever THAT means," Donkey said. "Look, Princess, you're   
'fraid others are gonna make fun of your kids 'cause they'd be   
different, is that what this all boils down to?"

"Well ..." Fiona struggled with a response "... in a sense, but --"

"Hey, you seen MY kids lately?" Donkey asked. "You think THEY ain't   
gonna be thought of as different growin' up?"

Fiona blushed, then said, "But Donkey, it's not the same --"

"You can say THAT again!" Donkey said. "They ain't the same as   
ANYTHING. How many dragon/donkey hybrids have you ever heard of,   
anyway? We don't even know what to call 'em. Drakeys? Dongons?   
Who knows? But I'll tell ya one thing. We're gonna raise our kids   
with a healthy dose of self-respect for who they are, WHATEVER they   
are. They're gonna go through life with their heads high and proud.   
And if somebody makes fun of 'em, treats 'em like they're some sorta   
freaks, we're gonna tell 'em to just spit in their eye -- and try   
not to burn it out. Those are the types o' fools we don't want our   
kids hanging with ANYWAY. I mean, if those bigots would rather   
judge somebody based on their background or appearance rather than   
gettin' to know the content of their character -- well, that's THEIR   
loss. Anyway, that's how Dragon and I see it. And if ya don't mind   
me sayin' so, Princess, maybe YOU should consider lookin' at it that   
way, too."

Fiona, slack-jawed, just stared at Donkey for several seconds.   
Behind her she heard Shrek comment, "Ye know, I once heard that some   
cultures revered talking donkeys for their wisdom Now I'm starting   
t'think there might be something t'that after all."

"Besides," Donkey added, "one'a the things I liked about your hubby   
when I first met him was his 'I am who I am and I don't care what   
NOBODY thinks of me' attitude. And maybe it ain't my place to say,   
but it seems to me that's more a sign of being an 'authentic' ogre   
than worryin' about where somebody's PARENTS came from, and if you   
teach your kids to be like him, then they should be fine!"

Fiona smiled at Donkey. "Indeed they should," she agreed. She then   
leaned forward, said, "Thank you," and kissed him on the top of his   
snout.

"What was THAT for?" Donkey asked, surprised.

"For the inspiration ... and the perspective," she replied. "You   
truly are a smart a-- ... I mean, a wise friend." Donkey smiled   
appreciatively as Fiona got to her feet and took a few steps back so   
that she could address all three males at once.

"Gentlemen," she said, "I thank you all. Donkey, for your words   
just now. Groyl, for being the type of father-in-law I could only   
have WISHED for before today."

"Thank ye, m'dear," Groyl responded, smiling, "and as I said b'fore,   
I couldn't be prouder of my son for winning the lifemate he did. In   
fact, I'd be honored if ye called me 'Dad.'"

"Thank you ... 'Dad'," Fiona said meekly. "I just wish Moyre agreed   
with you."

"Moyre was wrong to prejudge ye like she did," Groyl stated flatly,   
his smile fading. "She's admitted as much."

"Really?" Fiona asked, then looked around the room. "Where IS she,   
anyway?"

"She stepped outside for a spell," Groyl replied.

"Ah," Fiona said, then turned and looked at the closed front door.   
"Maybe I should speak with her ... alone ... for a while."

"That might not be a bad idea," Groyl agreed.

Fiona nodded, then turned back and faced Shrek. "But first," she   
said, smiling sadly, "my dear True Love. I know your heart was in   
the right place. But dearest, you've GOT to trust me more on things   
like this."

"Fiona," Shrek began apologetically, I --"

Fiona raised a hand -- unconsciously using a royal gesture --   
signaling for her husband to stop. He did so without even thinking.

"I ... I'm sorry for my ... emotional outburst earlier," she said,   
addressing all three males, some strains of that earlier emotion   
still detectable in her undertone. "But ... well, it was rather   
important to me ... actually, more important than I realized ... to   
be accepted as an ogress. To finally belong ... to be recognized   
... and even more, for our children ..." She paused, bit her   
suddenly quivering lower lip, then continued pensively, "But if that   
is not to be, then I must learn to accept it." She looked into   
Shrek's eyes, then continued, "Just as you accept me, although I am   
less than the full ogress you deserve."

Shrek shook his head and beheld her with loving, adoring eyes.   
"You're MORE than ANYTHING I could EVER deserve, Fiona," he said.   
"I'm so very, very sorry that by not telling ye everything before --   
that in trying t'protect ye -- I ended up hurting ye even that much   
more."

Fiona shrugged a heavy shrug. "I guess we're both still learning,"   
she said, and began to slowly walk towards him as she spoke. "Your   
fault was well-intentioned secretiveness. My fault was shutting you   
out just now when I was hurting so. I'm just so used to suffering   
... to venting sorrows ... alone. But I should never shut a door in   
your face." She was now directly in front of him. She looked up at   
him wordlessly for a moment, then added in a voice just above a   
whisper, "Especially not my bedroom door." She then suddenly   
reached up, took hold of his neck, and pulled his head down towards   
her. Shrek gave a short, surprised gasp, which was cut even shorter   
as Fiona locked her lips with his in an ardent kiss. Shrek flailed   
his arms about for a moment, but they quickly settled down against   
Fiona's back and were soon enveloping her, pulling her tighter   
against him as he returned her kiss with equal fervor. As the time   
of the kiss lengthened, Groyl and Donkey looked at each other and   
exchanged self-conscious but pleased grins.

Eventually the kiss broke, and Fiona and Shrek each had to take a   
few moments to gasp for air. "Wow!" he said. "What was THAT for?"

"For the things I heard you say to your father," Fiona replied,   
smiling up at her beloved.

"Really?" Shrek said. "Well, stick around! I'll tell him some   
more!"

Fiona giggled -- a sound that was welcome music to Shrek's ears,   
even if it had not yet regained the completely care-free quality   
that her giggles usually held. "Perhaps later," she said, but then   
her face grew more serious. "Right now, I'd like to talk with   
Moyre." She leaned up and kissed him again -- this time just a peck   
on the cheek -- then turned and headed out the front door.

Shrek stared at the door for several seconds after it closed behind   
her and then sighed as a contented smile played on his lips. Donkey   
grinned up at his friend, but then the animal's face took on a   
quizzical expression and he cocked one eyebrow and asked, "Say, man,   
why you holdin' your ears that way?"

"Huh?" Shrek grunted, not really having heard Donkey's question.   
But then he noticed his father walk over to the front door and flick   
the little flap that covered the knothole. "Son," he asked, "how   
long have ye had this ... little cover thing here?"

"Uhhh ... it's always been there ... pretty much," Shrek replied,   
wondering where Groyl was going with this, but fearing he knew.

"But Shrek, I thought ya just put that in after Fiona moved in with   
ya," Donkey said. "Before that, ya just had the open hole in the   
door."

Shrek looked down at Donkey. "Thanks for the clarification," he   
said sarcastically.

"No sweat, man!" Donkey smiled, missing the sarcasm.

Groyl nodded. "And what was that little warning ye gave Fiona to   
'be careful' when she went t'answer the door earlier?"

Shrek shrugged and answered defensively, "Well, ye never can tell --"

"Son," Groyl said, "this 'authenticity' bull and her own self-doubts   
aside, your wife IS an OGRE. And ogres MUST be able t'maintain an   
air of confidence ... even to the point of ARROGANCE. YOU know   
THAT. It's how we survive in a world that mostly don't like our   
kind. We need t'project an aura of self-assured intimidation ...   
so's to discourage the villagers and others of their ilk from trying   
anything funny, and in those cases where they do, t'be able t'scare   
'em off that much easier. What you're doing with Fiona is   
UNDERMINING her confidence."

Shrek blushed, then said, "But, Dad ... I don't see where taking a   
few precautions --"

"Precautions are one thing," Groyl said. "That's why we put up   
signs and such. But Son, ye keep treating Fiona the way ye are,   
soon you'll have her jumping at every shadow that crosses the window   
at night. And eventually when she chances upon the stray human,   
instead of projecting the air of cocky assurance she needs to, she   
might just show a little fear, and ye KNOW how that encourages them.   
Then, when the times come when she DOES have t'fight ... and as much   
as we try t'avoid it, eventually we ALL do ... it might make her a   
half-beat more hesitant, that much less assured when she needs t'be   
striking out with unwavering, unflinching abandon. From what Donkey   
here told me about your little encounter with Hood's gang, and even   
though she was outwardly human then, she HAS that ogress abandon.   
Ye don't want t'go messing with that."

"I ... understand what you're saying," Shrek admitted. "But, Dad   
..." Shrek looked down, heaved a great sigh, then walked over to   
and again flopped down into his easy chair. He continued to look   
down for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts, then looked back up   
at his father. "But Dad," he said, "it's just that ever since that   
horrible moment at the ball ... when I saw Charming kiss her ...   
Great Heavens, Dad, ye don't know how devastating that moment was!   
I'd thought I'd lost her ... forever ..." Shrek's voice caught for   
an instant. He forced a cough, then continued, "And honestly, Dad,   
I don't know how I could've just picked up and gone on after that.   
Thank God her father had refused t'give her the love potion. But   
ever since then ... when I realized how frail life is, and how   
easily I could lose her ... I just can't help it. I want t'protect   
her ... I NEED to protect her ... t'make sure nothing else happens   
to her --"

"Son, I know ye mean well, but really, it's counterproductive, like   
trying t'hide the ogre marriage tradition. Eventually it'll come   
back t'bite ye. It's yet another matter of trust, Shrek. Watch her   
back, yes, just as she watches yours. But ye've also GOT to trust   
her more t'take care of herself. If all ye want t'do is keep her   
sealed up in a safe little box, ye may as well have moved in with   
her parents in their castle."

Shrek blushed slightly and looked away. Groyl stared at him, his   
mouth agape, for several seconds.

"Oh m'God!" Groyl gasped. "Ye've actually CONSIDERED it, haven't   
ye?"

"Well ... I've THOUGHT about it," Shrek admitted defensively,   
looking back up at his father. "I mean, after all that happened at   
the ball ... things were a lot better after that than when we first   
arrived there."

"You can say THAT again!" Donkey suddenly chimed in. "But then   
again, it's not like they could've gotten a lot WORSE!"

Shrek shot Donkey an irritated grimace.

"Well, they couldn't have," Donkey mumbled contritely, dropping his   
eyes and kicking idly at the floor.

Groyl cocked an eyebrow. "Did ye talk this over with Fiona?" he   
asked his son.

"Yeah, we talked about it the day after the ball," Shrek replied.   
"She said that it was nice that things turned out so well that we   
could feel free t'visit her folks now and we'd be welcome, but that   
our HOME was back here in the swamp. It's where we belong, she   
insisted."

"And ye told her about your ... concerns?"

"Aye."

"And?"

"And ... she said it was something we'd work at coping with ...   
together."

Groyl shook his head. "You are one lucky ogre, Son," he said.

Shrek smiled wistfully. "Yeah. I know."

Groyl smiled sympathetically. "Don't think I don't understand how   
ye feel, Son," he said. "I haven't been through trauma like ye went   
through at that ball, but if something ever happened to Moyre ...   
well, I don't really know what I'd do, either."

Just then the front door opened and Fiona peered in, a perplexed   
look on her face. "I thought you said Moyre was out here," she   
said.

"Aye," both male ogres said together, turning to face her.

"Well, she's not out here now," Fiona said.

Both male ogres cocked an eyebrow in confused surprise and Shrek   
stood up from his chair.

"She SAID she'd be right outside," Groyl muttered, and strode toward   
the door. Fiona stepped back outside to let him pass, with Shrek   
and Donkey following just after him. Groyl stood on the porch and   
scanned the empty clearing, then he placed his hands to either side   
of his mouth and called, "MOYRE!"

There was no answer.

Groyl's confused expression was starting to yield to one of concern.

Shrek gestured toward the outhouse. "Would ye mind seeing if she's   
in there, Fi?" he asked.

"She's not in the outhouse," Fiona stated.

"Ah!" Shrek said. "Ye already checked for her there, then. Smart   
woman."

"Well, I've been to the outhouse, but it wasn't exactly to check for   
Moyre," Fiona admitted, blushing slightly.

"Oh," Shrek said.

"Then where do y'all think she went?" Donkey asked the group in   
general.

"I don't know," Groyl replied, the worry growing in his voice as his   
eyes darted about the scenery. "Maybe she decided t'take a look   
around Shrek's swamp."

"Well, let's search around for her, then," Shrek said. "She's GOT   
t'be here somewhere. It's not like she could've fallen off the ends   
of the earth!"


	9. Layer 8: To The Edge

Layer 8: To the Edge  
  
Moyre continued her long, steady, involuntary stride in beat to the incessant rhythmic chalumeau music that filled her head and controlled her muscles. She felt her emotions battling between panic at the loss of control and fury at whoever was behind that loss and had turned her body into a mindless puppet with about as much self-control as some brainless animated broom sent to fetch water by a lazy sorcerer. She had left the outskirts of her son's swamp some time ago, had passed through the surrounding forest, and was now treading along some old abandoned dirt road. Green vegetation was yielding to dryer terrain as Moyre saw that the road was starting to take her up toward some rocky outcropping of hills. Soon, just before the road took a particularly noticeable upward turn, she came to a roadblock. The roadblock was made up of a long wooden barricade that spanned the width of the road; it stood some four feet high and was made up of four parallel boards painted with alternating black and white angled stripes. A large wooden sign was nailed to the center of the top board upon which was painted, in bold red letters, the warning, 'DANGER! ROAD CLOSED! STAY OUT!' Below that, in smaller black letters, was written the caption, 'This means you!' Underneath that sign was nailed a second sign of the same size that said the same things but in Spanish.  
  
The music changed its tempo somewhat, and Moyre, to her relief, found herself coming to a stop just before the roadblock. Puppy, who had been keeping step with her all the way, stopped beside her, looked up at the roadblock, and whined.  
  
Moyre's fine ogre hearing then picked up, from somewhere far behind her, the distant sound of her husband shouting, "Moyre!" Puppy also seemed to hear it, as she turned around and looked the way they had come, her ears standing to attention. A few seconds later they could make out Groyl, Fiona, and Donkey all calling "Moyre!" as well as Shrek calling "Mom!"  
  
The music changed cadence once again, and Moyre felt even more relief as she began to turn. But the relief was short-lived, as she found she did not turn all the way, but only sideways to the roadblock. Fear gripped her once again as she strode off the road, around the roadblock, and then back onto the road on the other side and continued marching up it toward the hills. The chalumeau music then changed to the tune of 'Funeral March for a Marionette'. Moyre knew that couldn't be a good omen.  
  
Puppy watched as Moyre walked around the roadblock. Sensing danger, the canine barked at the ogress, but to no avail. Another round of distant calls caused Puppy to turn back around and look back the way they had come. She then turned and looked back at Moyre, and saw her continue walking up the road. The dog then turned back around yet again, and then started running back in the direction of Shrek's swamp, barking as loudly as she could.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
"MOYYYY-RE!" Groyl called again, his voice a little more hoarse and his tone a little more desperate, but the only answer were similar calls for "MOYRE!" from Fiona and Donkey and "MOM!" from Shrek. Those other calls were getting closer now, as the quartet were coming to the end of their first pre-arranged sweep through the various areas of the swamp where each had taken an individual route and were now reconvening in the clearing in front of Shrek's home.  
  
Groyl was the first to enter the clearing. He strode to the center of it, again looked all about him, and ran a shaky hand over the top of his smooth bald head. He was trying to keep his worry from ballooning into full-blown fear, but was doing a poor job of it.  
  
A few moments later he saw Fiona, then Donkey, then Shrek enter the clearing from various other areas and make their way towards him, their own faces also reflecting concern. (Well, in the case of Donkey, it was more like puzzlement.) They all came to a halt a few feet from each other and stared at Groyl, all at an apparent loss for words.  
  
All except for Donkey.  
  
"Man, it looks like she just up and disappeared!" the animal observed. "She ever done anything like this before?"  
  
"No ... never," Groyl responded, his voice uncertain.  
  
Fiona laid a hand gently on his arm and said in as reassuring a voice as possible, "Groyl ... Dad ... it'll be okay. We'll find her."  
  
"You bet!" Shrek added, forcing optimism into his own voice both for his father's sake and his own. "She probably just went sightseeing and got turned around. We'll just expand our search a wee bit more."  
  
"Yeah!" Donkey said. "Plus, I expect Dragon'll be here soon, so we'll have some aerial surveillance to cover even MORE territory!"  
  
"That's right!" Shrek said. "Don't fret, Dad. We'll find her if we have t'search every livery stable, cottage, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse --"  
  
Just then the sound of approaching, rapid yapping caught everybody's attention. They turned to look across the clearing and saw Puppy running towards them.  
  
Shrek frowned. "I wonder what HER problem is," he muttered.  
  
Puppy ran directly to and came to a stop in front of Fiona. The ogress knelt as the agitated bichon frise alternated between barks and whines of different tempo. "I ... I don't understand," Fiona said. "I've never seen her this upset. I'd bet it has something to do with Moyre, but I don't --"  
  
Suddenly Donkey approached the small white pup as its barking seemed to take on an air of frustration as well as agitation. The dog noticed Donkey looking down at her, then directed the same type of barking and whining at him that she had tried with Fiona.  
  
Donkey listened to her for a few moments, his brow knit in concentration, then he asked, "What's that ya say, girl? Moyre's in trouble? Headin' up into the hills?"  
  
Puppy then sneezed.  
  
"Bless you!" Donkey said.  
  
"Ye understand what that thing's saying?" Shrek asked, flabbergasted.  
  
"Sneezes aren't hard to figure out, Shrek," Donkey replied.  
  
"No! I mean all that other stuff!"  
  
"A lot of it," Donkey said. "Ya just gotta know how to listen."  
  
"Can it lead us to her?" Groyl blurted impatiently.  
  
Donkey looked down at the dog and said, "Take us to Moyre, girl!"  
  
Puppy barked once more up at Donkey, then turned and started running back across the clearing in the direction from which she had come.  
  
"Let's go!" Groyl said, and charged across the clearing after the white pup.  
  
Shrek, Fiona and Donkey hurried after Groyl. As they did so, Shrek looked down at Donkey, smiled gratefully, and said, "Nice job, Dr. Doolittle."  
  
"Hey, man, what can I say?" Donkey responded, smiling back. "It's an animal thing."  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Moyre noticed the ground becoming rockier and more desolate as she strode upward along the long-neglected road. Eventually she came up over a rise and found herself looking down a long, straight, flat valley, perhaps a couple of hundred yards long and some fifteen yards wide, that ran due east. Either side of this valley sloped sharply upward into hills at between a forty to sixty degree incline. The hills, each about a hundred feet higher than the valley floor, were rough, featuring outcroppings of rocks and small shallow caves, and were spotted with clumps of bushy evergreen trees that ranged in size from four to twenty feet in height, the hill to the north of the valley featuring noticeably more of the vegetation than its more desolate cousin to the valley's south side.  
  
But it was not the hilly topography that had drawn Moyre's attention. Rather, it was what lay near the far end of the valley. There she saw huddled together a group of some dozen villagers, all wielding a torch or pitchfork, and they were standing by a gaping hole in the middle of the road -- a hole that Moyre guessed was several yards wide. All her ogre senses started firing, alerting her to danger, but her body continued to ignore her as it maintained its march to that infernal music.  
  
Suddenly Moyre saw the source of her torment, as a crimson-clad man playing a scoped chalumeau stepped into her view from the side, some ten feet before her. He kept the instrument trained on her as he marched backwards, leading her toward the villagers ... and that hole. Moyre could see the edges of the musician's mouth curl up in a little smile as he played, and he actually began prancing to the tune of his own music. And maybe it was just her imagination, but Moyre thought that she could somehow hear his voice at some level of consciousness, singing along with that incessant, tune -- 'Follow me ... trust in me ... I'll show you where it's at ...' -- all the while leading her closer to the villagers and that pit.  
  
Moyre felt her blood run cold.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Groyl, Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey came to a stop before the roadblock. They read the warning sign as Puppy continued onward, going around the roadblock along the same path that Moyre had taken. Then the canine looked back at the group and barked, apparently urging them to follow her.  
  
Shrek looked over at his father. "Dad," he asked, "why on EARTH would Mom venture on past here?"  
  
Groyl, looking pale and even older than his years, could only shake his head. "I have no idea, Son," he confessed, then paused to wipe his mouth before he continued. "But I can't imagine she'd do it of her own accord."  
  
"But you three didn't hear anything while she was supposedly just outside our home, and we didn't find any signs of a struggle when we were searching for her," Fiona observed.  
  
"I know," Groyl conceded. "I'm thinking there may be ... dark forces at play here."  
  
"'Dark forces'?" Donkey repeated, somewhat nervously. "You mean black magic-type stuff?"  
  
"Aye," Groyl replied gravely.  
  
"Oh, GREAT," Donkey said in exasperation, then suddenly let go with a loud whistle.  
  
Groyl, taken by surprise, asked, "Why did ye do THAT?"  
  
"I'm callin' Dragon," Donkey explained. "If I'm gonna have ta go up against some wicked witch or whacked-out wizard, I wanna have some extra fire-power on my side!"  
  
Donkey scanned the sky for several seconds, but there was no sign of Dragon. He tried whistling again, but it did no good. Eventually he sighed and said, "She must still be outta range."  
  
Puppy, who had been curiously watching Donkey after his first peculiar whistle, now started barking again at the foursome behind her, urging them on.  
  
"Well, I can't just wait here!" Groyl said. "I'm going after my wife!" He then made his way around the roadblock. Puppy, yapping excitedly, turned and started running up the road, sniffing its surface every so often to maintain track of Moyre's scent now that they were past the point where the dog and the ogress had parted. Groyl stayed right on her heels.  
  
"He's right, fellas," Fiona said to her two more familiar companions. "Time could well be of the essence. We can't wait."  
  
"Aye," Shrek agreed, then added ominously, "ye may be more right than ye know." He then looked down at Donkey and said, "Ye can stay here and keep calling Dragon if ye want, Donkey. But I've gotta go after me Mom." He then nodded to Fiona and the two ogres began hurrying after Groyl.  
  
Donkey hesitated indecisively for several seconds, then reluctantly said, "Uhhh ... no ... I'll come with you guys." He then cast one last longing look up at the empty sky before turning and galloping after the newlyweds.  
  
As he pulled up next to Shrek and they continued their rapid pace up the road after Groyl, Donkey asked, "Say, Shrek, you know why this road's 'sposed to be so dangerous?"  
  
A dark cloud descended upon Shrek's features, and he replied, "Aye. Mostly, it's the Devil's Drainpipe."  
  
"Come again?" Donkey said.  
  
Shrek sighed. "A couple'a decades ago this road was pretty well traveled. Until one day when this huge sinkhole opened up in the middle of it and gobbled down a carriage, its passengers, and team of horses whole. They never saw hide nor hair of any of 'em again. Turns out that the ground that the road's built on sits atop this huge cavern. The drop through the hole was so deep and the incident so horrible, and the way the hole was sitting down in this valley between a couple'a hills, that it got the nickname 'The Devil's Drainpipe'."  
  
"Wow!" Donkey said. "Exactly how deep DOES it go, anyhow?"  
  
"Nobody knows," Shrek said. "One day they contracted for the ten dwarves to scope it out -- them being experts in underground mines and caves and caverns and such -- but even they never found the bottom, and just came back saying that the whole area was so dangerous that people had better just stay away."  
  
Donkey frowned. "TEN dwarves?" he asked. "I thought there were SEVEN dwarves."  
  
"Aye," Shrek agreed. "AFTER they came back from the cavern."  
  
"Oh," Donkey said, then gulped nervously.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The Piper marched the ogress to within four feet of the yawning, roughly fifteen-foot wide pit, and had her come to a halt there. Next he blew a special series of notes to keep the beast still and mesmerized, then lowered his chalumeau and examined her. She continued standing there, eyes fixed forward, as still as a statue except for her shallow breathing. The Piper nodded, pleased at his own handiwork, then turned and looked over to the other side of the pit at the cluster of some dozen villagers. He had to fight the temptation to roll his eyes as he saw how they nervously stood there gawking at the ogress, their dull faces betraying barely disguised fear despite their superior numbers and the monster's obvious helplessness. They held their pitchforks a little tighter, those that had pitchforks. Others held torches, which would have been useful if the Piper had shown up much later; as it was, however, although the sun was sitting low in the western sky, it would still be an hour or so before it became dark enough to need the torches. Despite that, one of the villagers already had his lit. The Piper allowed himself a small chuckle at that as his eyes then shifted to the man who stood, pitchfork in hand, at the front of the scraggly pack: Feldgud.  
  
"The ogress!" Feldgud said, staring at the beast.  
  
"As promised," the Piper confirmed. Then he held out his hand and said, "Now, hand it over."  
  
Feldgud began to reach into a pocket for the bag of coins, but suddenly stopped. His eyes focused more intensely on the captive, then he said, "Hold the phone!" and began walking around the side of the pit towards her.  
  
"Come again?" the Piper asked in an ominous tone as Feldgud passed him and got nearer to the beast.  
  
Feldgud, pitchfork held at the ready, came within a yard of the creature and examined her. Then he blurted out, "You got the wrong ogress!"  
  
"I BEG your pardon?" the Piper said.  
  
"Look at her!" Feldgud said, his anger growing, as he gestured towards the beast with his pitchfork. "She's older -- YEARS older, fatter, and her hair's totally different!" He then turned back to the gaggle of other villagers and asked, "Isn't she different, boys?"  
  
The villagers mumbled awkwardly and confusedly among themselves for a few seconds. "Sure Jer!" one eventually said. "You bet! Not the same at all!" added another. The others all muttered their general agreement with Feldgud, except for one toward the back who commented, "I don't know, they all look the same to me."  
  
With the general consensus on his side, Feldgud looked back at the Piper and said, "You see?"  
  
The Piper's eyes narrowed. He stared at the villager and said between clenched teeth, "Feldgud, if you're trying to weasel out of our deal --"  
  
"I'm not weaseling out of NOTHING!" Feldgud spat back. "It's YOU who's failed to deliver! I don't know where you picked up this over-the-hill thing from, but the ogress WE wanted lives in that shack in that swamp --"  
  
"Which is exactly where this 'thing' came from," the Piper said. "I saw her exiting the shack myself."  
  
"Well, then maybe she was visiting. Who cares? The point is, she's NOT the one we contracted for!"  
  
"Au contraire," the Piper disagreed. "I have delivered an ogress from the shack in the swamp. THAT was our agreement. You now owe me the remainder of my fee. However, if AFTER you pay you then wish to negotiate a NEW contract for ANOTHER ogress from that shack --"  
  
"WHAT?!" Feldgud almost screamed. "You must be mad!"  
  
"No, not at all," the Piper said calmly. But then his voice took on a more foreboding tone as he added, "And believe me, Feldgud, bad things happen to people who refuse to pay The Piper."  
  
The two continued bickering back and forth. So engaged were they in their debate, and so engrossed were the other villagers in watching them, that nobody noticed at the far western end of the road when five pairs of eyes peeked up over the rise that the Piper and ogress had just trod that led across the valley.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The ogres and Donkey had heard distant voices when they had approached the rise in the road just before the valley, and had gotten on their hands and knees -- or just knees, in the case of Donkey -- to crawl up to and peek over the top of it. There they saw the long stretch of road that led through the valley between the two hills, and nearly two hundred yards down that road they saw Moyre standing there by the gaping pit, with Feldgud by her side brandishing a pitchfork, the Piper nearby holding his peculiar instrument, and the other villagers just to the far side of the pit.  
  
Puppy, who had trotted up the rise beside the crawling Fiona, also saw the sight up ahead, and began to bark. Fiona quickly said, "SHHHH!" and gently laid one hand over the pup's mouth.  
  
The two male ogres, however -- Groyl just to Fiona's right and Shrek just to her left -- were not so easy to silence.  
  
"MOYRE!" Groyl gasped at the same moment Shrek said "MOM!" The two began to rise, ready to charge across the road.  
  
Both male ogres, however, as they rose, simultaneously felt a sudden and violent pull at the back of their vests, and then found themselves toppling backwards. They both landed with a dusty thud on their backs at the bottom of the rise. They looked towards each other in stunned surprise, only to see Fiona laying there between them where she had also fallen, either of her hands still grasping the back of either ogre's vest where she had grabbed and yanked them both back.  
  
"Are you two CRAZY?!" she said in a scolding, rasping whisper, looking at each male in turn. "Didn't you see the predicament Moyre's in over there, on the edge of that pit? If those scoundrels see you two charging across that open road at them, Heaven knows WHAT they might do!"  
  
Both males gawked at her for a few moments, then Shrek shook his head and said, "Well ... I figured they'd probably just run away --"  
  
"They might," she conceded. "Or, with her as their prisoner, they might make a stand. Or worse, with her that close to that pit, they might just panic and knock her in!"  
  
"She's right," Groyl said reluctantly. "We have t'be smarter."  
  
"Donkey!" Fiona said, letting go of the males and rolling to a sitting position. "How are they reacting?"  
  
Donkey was laying just below the crest of the rise, peering over it with his ears held back flat against his head. "A few of 'em looked over here when y'all first got up, but I don't think they saw much. Probably got blinded some by the sunset." Here Donkey nodded back over top her head. Fiona followed his gesture and saw the bright yellow orb laying low and large just above the horizon behind them. A corner of Fiona's mouth broke into a rueful smile. For so many years she had feared and hated the sunset, heralding as it did her imminent transformation from beautiful human into ugly beast. Now it had become her unwitting but welcome ally. Yet one more irony to add to a life full of them, she thought.  
  
"Anyhow," Donkey continued, "they've gone back to squabblin' with themselves over somethin' now."  
  
"Looks like we caught a break," Groyl whispered as the three ogres again crawled up on their hands and knees so that they, too, could again peek over the rise.  
  
"Why's Mom standing so still, I wonder," Shrek said.  
  
"Aye," Groyl said. "That's not like her a'tall."  
  
"It looks like she's in some sort of trance," Fiona observed. She looked at the group around Moyre; all appeared to be typical human villagers, except for the man in the crimson costume holding the odd chalumeau. "And I bet it has something to do with that red musician."  
  
Shrek squinted. "Y'know, he looks oddly familiar, but I can't quite --"  
  
"Oh, I remember!" Donkey said. "He was one'a them fairy tale people that Farquaad had banished to your swamp! As I recall, he was playin' some sort'a pipe and usin' it to herd this big pack o' rats round, makin' 'em do whatever he wanted."  
  
"That's it then," Groyl said, his top lip curling back from his teeth. "We need t'take him out and get my wife back. Maybe if we lay low the sunset'll give us enough cover to sneak right up the road and --"  
  
"No," Fiona disagreed. "It's too far. It won't give us THAT much cover." Then her eyes carefully took in the surrounding topography. After a few moments of observation and quick mental planning, she pointed toward the northern hill. "However, THAT might," she said. "I could sneak around the hillside under cover of the trees all the way to where I could leap down right beside them. I could then take out the musician and get Moyre away from that pit."  
  
"YOU'd do all that?" Shrek asked, jaw agape. "Shouldn't we ALL go, to --"  
  
"No," Fiona interrupted. "It's better if I go alone. Less chance of them noticing something sneaking up on them."  
  
"But if just ONE of us should go," Shrek said, "then since it's MY mom, shouldn't I be the one to --"  
  
"Darling, nothing personal, but I'm smaller and more agile," Fiona stated matter-of-factly. "I've got a better chance at avoiding detection."  
  
"But even if ye take out the musician, there's still all those villagers!" Shrek pointed out.  
  
Fiona looked back at the scene around the pit, then frowned and shook her head. "That should be no problem," she said. "They won't stand a chance."  
  
Shrek gawked for a moment at his wife. She had made that last statement dismissing some twelve-to-one odds against her with simple, quiet confidence, with no bravado about it at all.  
  
"I've got to get going," Fiona said, then started moving back from the rise. Shrek reflexively reached down and grabbed her wrist.  
  
"But Fi --" he began.  
  
"Shrek! Please!" Fiona said. "I can do this! Trust me!"  
  
Shrek's eyes shot over to his father. Groyl raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the unasked question, glanced over at the scene by the pit, then wet his lips and looked back at Shrek. "Whatever you think, Son," Groyl said.  
  
Shrek looked back down into Fiona's expectant blue eyes. "Okay," he muttered, letting go of her wrist.  
  
Fiona smiled reassuringly at him, and began moving again.  
  
"And Fi?" Shrek said.  
  
Fiona looked back up at him.  
  
"Be ca--" Shrek checked himself. "I mean ... go get 'em, tigress!"  
  
Fiona smiled at him again, this smile full of love and gratitude. But her features quickly shifted, her eyes becoming sharp and attentive and her face grim and determined as she quickly made her way around the base of the rise and toward the northern hill.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
"You CAN'T release her from the spell!" Feldgud gasped.  
  
"Oh, can't I?" the Piper retorted. "I warned you I'd do that before, Feldgud. And she is quite aware of what we're saying right now. She's aware of who you are ... who ALL of you are ... who are standing about her. And if she's NOT the one you contracted for, then that will mean there will soon be at least THREE ogres who know who you are and what you tried to do. Is that what you want, Feldgud? Is it?"  
  
"N-no," Feldgud replied, his face flushing. "All right," the villager sighed, "I'll pay you HALF the remaining amount."  
  
"All of it," the Piper insisted, his voice low and even.  
  
"Seventy-five percent," Feldgud offered.  
  
The Piper opened his mouth to voice another refusal, then he stopped. His lips curled into a sinister little smile. "Very well," he said. "Seventy-five percent. But for that price, I will not have her walk into the pit."  
  
"WHAT?" Feldgud stammered.  
  
"You heard me," the Piper said. "I shall leave her in the state she is in now. It will be up to YOU to shove her in. She's close enough. You and your ... brave band should manage it," he added mockingly, casting a disparaging glance at the cluster of increasingly uncomfortable villagers. "It will be worth it to me to see a blowhard like you actually sully his hands with such dirty work."  
  
Feldgud's eyes flared with anger as he stared at the Piper. The musician simply laughed. Feldgud muttered something to himself as he pulled out the cloth bag with the remainder of the Piper's fee. He reached in and pulled out a quarter of the coins, shoved them into a pocket, and threw the bag at the Piper. The Piper caught the bag, casually looked inside and jigged its contents, then nodded toward the ogress and said, "She's all yours."  
  
Feldgud sneered at the Piper, then walked over to the ogress. He looked up at her entranced, disgustingly ugly face. She stood a few inches taller than he and was considerably heavier. Feldgud turned and looked at his companions on the other side of the pit. "All right," he said, "come on over here and help me shove this thing in!"  
  
The other villagers hesitated. They all looked around at each other, reluctant and confused expressions on their faces.  
  
"Well, what are you all WAITING for?!" Feldgud goaded.  
  
"But ... if we shove her in ..." one of them ventured "... that might KILL her!"  
  
Feldgud gawked at the man for several seconds, then said, "Of COURSE it'll kill her! That's the POINT!"  
  
"But ... we never actually meant to HURT anybody," another said.  
  
Feldgud shook his head, not believing what he'd heard. "Then what the blazes do you think the PITCHFORKS are for?!" he demanded.  
  
The other villagers all looked questioningly around at each other for a few moments, then one of them offered, "For effect?"  
  
"Besides," yet another said, "we never thought we'd really ... you know ... succeed!"  
  
Feldgud was slapping his forehead in frustration when he heard another, younger voice say, "And it would be murder!"  
  
Feldgud's eyes narrowed. "Who said anything about murder?" he snapped.  
  
Some of the villagers sheepishly stepped sideways to reveal a boy in his mid-teens, about five feet tall and of common features with blond hair that fell just to his shoulders. He was carrying an unlit torch which he shifted uneasily in his grasp. "I -- I did, sir," he said nervously.  
  
"What's your name, boy?" Feldgud demanded.  
  
"Francis, sir," the youngster replied.  
  
"Well, Francis," Feldgud said, "you seem confused. It is not 'murder' to slay an ogre. It is a duty!"  
  
"But they're people!" Francis objected.  
  
"People? HA! They're MONSTERS! A threat to our village! And it is our duty as red-blooded, Saxon mothers' sons to protect our village against those that pose any threats, both now and possibly maybe someday in the future. And ogres definitely fit that profile!" Feldgud paused for a moment, scowling thoughtfully, then asked, "You're not originally from Typical, are you?"  
  
"No," Francis admitted shyly. "We moved here a few years ago. We were originally from another kingdom. One day our Emperor was giving this big parade to show off this ornate new set of clothes he'd just had made for him. But when I saw him, I saw he was naked. I thought it was weird how everybody around me kept complimenting him on his outfit, so I spoke up about how he didn't have anything on. At that point everybody gasped and looked at me, then they looked back at the Emperor and started laughing at him. Well, the Emperor didn't look too pleased, and my parents kinda rushed me out of there. But a few days later we were visited by agents from the kingdom's Inquisitorial Revenue Service. They did this big audit of my father's books and he ended up loosing his business. Then he couldn't find work anywhere in the kingdom -- everybody seemed scared to hire him. So we ended up moving out of that kingdom and wound up here."  
  
"Ah-ha!" Feldgud said. "And you know what the moral of YOUR little story is, don't you?"  
  
"Sir?" Francis asked.  
  
"To keep your mouth shut and listen to those that know better than you!" Feldgud said. He then looked over the rest of the villagers and asked, "Does anybody ELSE have any objections to dispatching this beast?"  
  
There was a general, uneasy murmur, but nobody voiced any objections.  
  
"Good!" Feldgud said. "Since you all seem to lack intestinal fortitude today, you watch while I take care of this creature myself. But I expect a little more cooperation when the NEXT ogre comes around!"  
  
He then strode behind the ogress, pitchfork in hand. He paused, licking his lips nervously as he looked past her toward the chasm before which she stood.  
  
"What's wrong, Feldgud?" the Piper, who had been calmly standing by and watching the villagers with bemused curiosity, goaded him. "Having qualms with your own gastro-intestinal track?"  
  
"No!" Feldgud shot back. "I'm just ... preparing myself. This will take some effort."  
  
"Ah, I see," the Piper said. "Well, by all means, knock yourself out!"  
  
Feldgud sneered again at the Piper, then turned back to the ogress. The villager took a deep breath and then placed the tongs of the pitchfork against her back.  
  
It was then that Feldgud heard it. An odd, high-pitched sound, like a weird type of scream. It very quickly grew louder, and seemed to be coming from the north. He turned in that direction just in time to hear the concluding "HiiiiIIII-YAH!" as his field of vision was filled by a blur of green and brown. The sole of an oversized sandal stuck his chest with considerable force and the pitchfork flew from his hand as he was launched backwards, falling on his back several feet away. His head struck a rock as he landed, and his vision blacked out as he lapsed into unconsciousness.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Having kicked Feldgud aside upon landing, Fiona quickly turned toward Moyre and swung her left arm outward as hard as she could, striking her spellbound mother-in-law in the upper part of her chest and knocking her backwards away from the pit. Moyre collapsed in a crumpled heap on the ground out of danger as Fiona simultaneously turned to face the Piper. The crimson musician had been startled by the second ogress's sudden and dramatic appearance, but had quickly recovered and was starting to raise the chalumeau to his lips. Fiona leapt towards him with another yelp, swinging her right leg around in an arch in mid-air. The Piper was just beginning to blow the first note when Fiona's foot struck the instrument, knocking it out of his grasp and sending it hurtling down into the dark depths of the Devil's Drainpipe. Fiona landed in a crouched position just in front of the stunned Piper, took a split-second to sneer up at him, then punched hard to his solar plexus with the heel of one hand. The musician gave a muffled 'oof' as he, too, was knocked several feet backwards, landing on his side in a doubled-up position, holding his stomach and wishing he hadn't eaten all that pie. A few sudden, involuntary heaves later and it didn't matter anymore that he had.  
  
As the Piper was being de-pied, Fiona's acute hearing was able to finally make out the far distant sound of the chalumeau smashing against a rock somewhere at the bottom of the drainpipe. That sound was quickly followed by a relieved moan from Moyre. Fiona turned and looked down at her mother-in-law, who was lifting herself into a sitting position. "Are you all right, Moyre?" Fiona asked, brushing a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead back into place.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine, now, dear," Moyre replied, then smiled up at her daughter-in-law and added, "thanks to you."  
  
Fiona smiled back, then said apologetically. "I'm sorry about hitting you like that. I wanted to make sure you were clear of that pit."  
  
"Don't think anything of it, dear, I quite understand," Moyre said. "Although, after the way I treated ye earlier, I suspect ye got a LITTLE satisfaction from it. I know **I** would have."  
  
Fiona grinned bashfully and blushed, but didn't say anything. Moyre chuckled for a few seconds, but then her face grew grimmer as she nodded toward the gaggle of villagers on other side of the pit. "It seems I disappointed them," she said. "They apparently wanted you, but got me. They friends o' yours?"  
  
Fiona followed Moyre's gesture and saw again the group of villagers. Still apparently stunned by Fiona's unexpected appearance and the ensuring activity, they seemed frozen in place -- frozen except for their involuntary trembling -- as those with pitchforks held them out defensively, their eyes wide with fright.  
  
Fiona shook her head. "No," she said in response to Moyre's question. "Just a bunch of humans." She then looked back at the elder ogress, grinned slyly, and added, "You know how THEY can be."  
  
Moyre chuckled again. Fiona laughed briefly as well, then turned and began striding boldly and purposefully around the edge of the Drainpipe toward the villagers. 'Presence, Fi!' she recalled Shrek telling her once. 'When confronted with a gang of peasants, it's all about presence. Remember, WE'RE the ogres. WE do the scaring. Don't forget that, and don't let THEM forget it.'  
  
A couple of the villagers gasped and pulled back as she drew closer. She considered what moves she should use to incapacitate them as quickly and efficiently as possible. But then she thought again. Shrek had ALSO said, 'If ye do it right, ye won't have t'fight at all. And sometimes that's more of a challenge -- and more rewarding -- than laying 'em out.' And besides, these other villagers HAD refused to help their now cold-conked leader force Moyre into the pit. So Fiona decided on a different tract, one that she also thought Moyre might appreciate. She halted a few feet in front of the villagers, crossed her arms, and beheld them with contempt, one corner of her mouth curling into a cocky little grin. "Hello, boys," she said. "I hear you're looking for me?"  
  
The group looked at each other in wide-eyed fright for a few moments, then the villager with the lit torch suddenly started waving it in front of Fiona. "Back! Back, beast! Back!" he said, trying -- not very convincingly -- to sound threatening. "I warn ya!"  
  
Fiona followed the waving torch with apparent disinterest for a few seconds, then drew in a shallow breath and blew it out, hard. The torch flared briefly, then went out like an oversized birthday candle.  
  
"Oh!" the villager gasped, looking with surprise at the smoking torch. "Uhhh ... riiiight ..." he forced an uneasy little smile.  
  
Fiona then drew in a very deep breath -- deeper than she ever had -- and a moment later opened her mouth wide, bore her teeth, and let out a long, loud, full-throated roar aimed directly at the group of villagers. Terrified, the humans all began screaming themselves, some dropping their torches and pitchforks and grabbing onto each other in abject fear. After a few seconds Fiona had finished and was wiping some spittle from her mouth while the villagers continued their own screams. She waited patiently for their noise to die away, and then she leaned toward the group, all of whom seemed frozen in fright, and she whispered, "This is the part where you ... well, you know the rest."  
  
Indeed they did. They all looked at each other again briefly, then they all started screaming again and running headlong down the road toward the east out of the valley and back towards their village. Most had left their torches and pitchforks -- as well as their evident leader -- lying in the dust, and they didn't seem to be giving any of them a second thought. Fiona couldn't help but laugh as she watched them run. She hadn't felt such guilty pleasure since she had caught that presumptuous little mermaid kissing an unwitting Shrek on the beach and had dragged her across the sand and hurled her out to sea.  
  
"Man!" the princess gushed, caught somewhere between elation and embarrassment. "That was ... fun!"  
  
"It is, isn't it?" Moyre said, smiling. She was now in a standing position, dusting off her dress. "You're pretty good at it, I must say. In fact, I don't know of any real ogresses who could've done any better. Or rather, I should say any OTHER real ogresses." Moyre nodded her head slightly in tribute, and her smile took on a more modest, apologetic hue.  
  
Fiona, moved by the gesture, nodded and smiled back in gratitude. "Thanks," she said. "I learned it observing an expert." Fiona's eyes instinctively sought out her husband at the thought. She squinted against the sunset and saw him standing at the end of the road beside his father and Donkey, only a few feet from where she had been crouching with them. He really HAD trusted her to handle things. His show of confidence gave her a warm feeling inside. She looked over to where Feldgud lay, still unconscious. Then she looked to where the Piper had fallen -- but he wasn't there anymore.  
  
"Hey, where'd that musician go?" Fiona asked, a bit of concern in her voice.  
  
"Wha--" Moyre began, her eyes sweeping to the spot where her tormentor had lain. It was empty now except for the pie remains. "Blast! I was looking forward t'having a little ... heart-to-heart with that villain. But I'm sure he's probably half-way across the next county by now." Moyre snorted contemptuously. She then shrugged and stepped curiously but cautiously toward the pit, then leaned forward carefully and stared down into it. "My! It IS a wee bit of a drop, isn't it? Anyway, I wouldn't worry about it, Fiona. It looks like THIS little adventure is over."  
  
Just then the edge of the pit where Moyre stood crumbled beneath her. Her feet slid out from under her and she landed hard on her left arm. She howled in both surprise and pain and bounced off into the pit. As she slipped past the new edge she reached out desperately with her right arm, and her clawing hand managed to snag a root of some sort that was exposed in the freshly revealed earth. But the root was only a little over an inch wide where her hand had hooked it; it quickly started ripping out of the earth under her weight, and before she had a chance to get a good grasp on it, it broke in half, and the ogress found herself dropping into the void. 


	10. Layer 9: Down the Drainpipe

Layer 9: Down the Drainpipe  
  
Had Fiona taken any time to think about what she was about to do,  
she would never have attempted it, for she would have realized it  
was impossible.  
  
Fortunately for Moyre, the princess did not take time to think.  
  
Fiona saw the root ripping from the ground, and how dangerously thin  
it was where Moyre's hand had hooked it. But the princess also saw  
that the part that was pulling out of the dirt was getting  
progressively thicker. So Fiona reacted.  
  
She launched herself into the pit, aiming toward the far edge just  
above Moyre.  
  
With her right hand Fiona reached for and grasped the thicker part  
of the root. With her left hand she reached for Moyre's right  
wrist, clasping it just as the thinner part of the root that Moyre  
had caught broke and the elder ogress found herself in freefall.  
Fiona gritted her teeth and held on tight with both hands as the  
link she had formed between the root and Moyre grew suddenly taught  
across her arms and, with two ogresses now weighing upon it, the  
root continued to pull out of the ground. Two feet. Three feet.  
Both ogresses screamed as they dropped further toward the darkness.  
  
Then the root held. A few seconds later the ogresses stopped  
screaming and found themselves gently swaying just below the opening  
of the pit, with a great, dark nothingness all about them and below  
them.  
  
Fiona looked up. She held onto the root, which had come some four  
feet out of the ground and left her a total of some five feet up to  
the edge of the Drainpipe. She then looked down. She could just  
barely make out Moyre's form in the gloom, even this close to the  
opening.  
  
"Are you all right?" Fiona asked between gasps as she tried to will  
her heart to stop beating quite so fast.  
  
"A-aye," Moyre replied, slightly turning the wrist that Fiona held  
and clasping her daughter-in-law's wrist with her own hand,  
strengthening their bond. "Again, thanks to YOU. Great Heavens,  
child, that was AMAZING!"  
  
"Thanks," Fiona said, blushing. A moment later she was back to  
practicality, asking, "Now, can you reach up and grab my arm with  
your other hand?"  
  
Moyre began to raise her left arm, then screamed again, this time in  
pain.  
  
"What's wrong?!" Fiona asked with concern.  
  
"My arm! Where I fell on it ..." Moyre gasped. "I ... I think it's  
broken. I'm sorry, Fiona, it's not going t'be of any use."  
  
"Well ... just hang tight," Fiona said. "Shrek and Groyl were  
watching and should be here any second to pull us out." Fiona then  
heaved a heavy sigh.  
  
"What is it, Fiona?" Moyre asked.  
  
"Actually, I was rather hoping that -I- wasn't going to need rescued  
for a change," the princess replied as she watched the opening,  
expecting her husband's large face to appear there at any time.  
  
Unknown to Fiona, however, Shrek was having his own problems at that  
moment.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
It had been a less than patient wait for Shrek as he had lain beside  
his father, anxiously waiting for Fiona to appear while staring over  
the edge of the rise with Groyl and Donkey at the scene transpiring  
at the pit around his entranced mother.  
  
"What's keeping her?" Groyl asked, his own anxiety starting to get  
the better of him.  
  
"Aye," Shrek agreed. "It's been some time. Maybe we should --"  
  
"Hey! Guys! She just left! Give her a chance!" Donkey said.  
  
Shrek sighed. If it were up to him, he would have given his wife  
all day. But this was a life-and-death situation, one which was  
edging closer to death at every passing second. Then he saw that  
villager place a pitchfork at his mother's back, and all thoughts of  
patience leapt from his mind as he quickly rose, ready to make that  
dash across the road he had begun earlier. But by the time he had  
reached his feet Fiona had appeared, dispatched the villager, and  
knocked Moyre back away from the pit. Shrek saw the crimson  
musician begin to raise that pipe to his lips and was about to call  
a warning to his wife, but Fiona was already on it, leaping at the  
man, kicking his instrument into the pit and then knocking him back  
with a blow so hard that Shrek could almost feel it in his own  
stomach.  
  
"Oh m'God!" gasped Groyl, who had risen along with Shrek and, also  
like him, was now simply standing on the road just beyond the rise  
and staring at the action around the Drainpipe. "She IS good!"  
  
"Aye," Shrek said with more than a hint of pride as a relieved smile  
spread across his face. "That she is."  
  
Then Shrek's smile began to fade with new anxiety as he saw  
Fiona boldly striding towards the rest of the villagers. The  
ogress didn't command the overwhelming physical presence of a  
male like Shrek, but she WAS as tall as the tallest of the  
villagers, considerably larger than any of them, and far  
stronger than their strongest. Still, if they launched some  
sort of coordinated attack, there were enough of them that they  
COULD overpower her. Shrek recalled how only a handful of  
Farquaad's men were able to keep her restrained at the church  
while it had taken considerably more of them to restrain him.  
But Fiona had still been somewhat weak from her transformation.  
('Darling', she had once told him, 'when you have every molecule  
in your body taken apart, rearranged, and shoved back together,  
it takes a little while to recover your full strength.') Plus,  
those had been Farquaad's best trained and disciplined soldiers,  
whereas these were just peasants, and as he had once told Fiona,  
if you kept peasants on the psychological defensive then you  
were already well over half-way to winning the battle. But even  
then there was the danger of a stray, panicked pitchfork thrust.  
Now that Moyre was out of danger, Shrek decided that he would  
give Fiona a hand with the rest. He began moving forward when  
he felt Groyl lay a restraining hand on his arm.  
  
"It's all right, Son," the elder ogre said, his voice sounding  
relieved now that Moyre was out of danger. "Let her be. She's  
doing fine!"  
  
Shrek, not feeling as secure with his OWN wife only a few steps away  
from the ignoble gaggle, was about to voice his dissent when he saw  
Fiona stop and strike a cross-armed pose. That was different -- he  
knew she always preferred the direct approach before. Was she  
trying to reason with them? Shrek knew from experience that trying  
to talk reason into a peasant was about as much use as trying to  
talk a hunk of lead into spontaneously turning into gold. But then  
one of the villagers started waving a torch at her and she casually  
blew it out. Shrek actually chuckled. He noticed about this time  
the musician finally staggered to his feet, but as the villain then  
started stumbling quickly toward the south away from his wife and  
mother, Shrek didn't give him much more thought for now. There  
would be time to hunt him down as soon as they were done with the  
villagers.  
  
Then Fiona opened her mouth and roared. Shrek's own mouth dropped  
open -- in an amazed gape. Groyl laughed heartily as Fiona finished  
and wiped her lips while the villagers continued screaming in  
fright.  
  
"Woooow!" Donkey exclaimed. "Looks like there's some SERIOUS green  
goin' down over there!"  
  
"Did ye teach her that, Son?" Groyl asked as the villagers all  
started running away.  
  
"Aye," Shrek said, still somewhat shocked at what he had just  
witnessed. "I suppose in a way I did."  
  
"Man, Shrek!" Donkey said. "I think you created a MONSTER!"  
  
"No, Donkey, I didn't 'create' anything," Shrek replied as he  
watched Fiona's eyes seeking him out from the far side of the pit  
and then a smile crease her sweet lips when she found him. "I've  
just tried t'encourage her to open herself up to what's already  
inside." Layers indeed, he thought, and allowed himself another  
relieved smile.  
  
Shrek then watched in horror as his mother suddenly dropped from  
view into the Drainpipe, followed a moment later by his wife driving  
in after her. And then he heard them both scream.  
  
"NOOOO!!!" Shrek cried, and bounded forward toward the pit.  
  
The bounding was a mistake. Shrek came down with all his  
considerable weight on his left foot. The ground beneath the foot  
immediately began to cave in. His right foot landed beside it, but  
the traction there was fleeting as well. Suddenly Shrek found  
himself hip-deep in the middle of a new, quickly collapsing  
sinkhole, with his feet flailing in empty air underneath. He may  
well have fallen all the way through, but suddenly he felt something  
grab the top back part of his vest, arresting his fall.  
  
"GOTCHA!" Donkey said through teeth clenched on the back of Shrek's  
vest. The equine braced his legs against the substantial weight  
pulling him downward and threatening to detach his oversized teeth  
from his gums. But somehow he managed to hold on, his own front  
hooves anchored just inches from the edge of the new sinkhole, all  
four legs locked and trembling with the effort of keeping Shrek from  
falling completely through.  
  
Groyl, who had also begun dashing forward in panic at the sight of  
the two ogresses disappearing into the pit, turned around at the  
sound of Shrek's travails. The elder ogre's eyes, already wide with  
fright for the females, now nearly popped from their sockets.  
"SHREK!" he cried, and began to turn around.  
  
"NO!" Shrek yelled. "GO ON, DAD! HELP MOM AND FIONA! I'LL BE  
FINE!"  
  
Desperate confusion took hold on Groyl's face. "But --"  
  
"GO! GO!" Shrek insisted. "OUR FEMALES NEED YOU! GO!"  
  
Groyl hesitated a moment longer, then turned and continued running  
toward the Devil's Drainpipe. Once he was on his way, Shrek, who  
was now submerged down to the bottom of his chest in the new hole,  
began clawing with his hands at the dry, pebbly soil around him,  
trying to get a hand-hold. But it was no use, and the movement only  
caused him to slip a little further into the new hole.  
  
"Will you hold still?!" Donkey mumbled through his clenched teeth as  
Shrek's movements caused Donkey's hooves to slip a couple of more  
inches toward the hole.  
  
Shrek grumbled something unintelligible, but realized this friend  
was right. He stopped struggling -- for now -- and tried to simply  
support as much of his own weight on his arms as he could as he  
watched his father. Groyl had reached the Drainpipe and was  
kneeling and looking down into it. Nearby, Puppy -- without a means  
to help anyone for now -- whined powerlessly. Shrek knew how she  
felt. He said a silent prayer that by some miracle both ogresses  
were alive and safe as his eyes stayed glued to the Drainpipe.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Groyl felt relief flood through his veins when he squinted down into  
the abyss and was able to make out both ogress's forms in the gloom.  
"Moyre! Fiona!" he cried. "You're both alive!"  
  
"For now!" Fiona replied, smiling. Then after a moment her smile  
faded and she asked, "But where's Shrek?"  
  
Groyl's expression also grew more serious. "Just a moment," he  
said, then sat up and looked back at his son, still stuck in the new  
sinkhole, the anxiety in his face easy to read even over a hundred  
yards away. "THEY'RE BOTH FINE!" Groyl called to him, perhaps  
exaggerating the security of their predicament a bit.  
  
"Thank Heaven," Groyl could more see than hear Shrek say, then his  
son closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh of relief -- or was that  
a true prayer of thanks?  
  
"Dad!" Groyl heard Fiona say from beneath him, her own voice seeming  
to inherit the anxiety that had just escaped her husband. "Why  
isn't Shrek with you? Where is he?"  
  
Groyl reluctantly leaned back over the edge of the Drainpipe and  
looked down into his daughter-in-law's worried face. "He's ...  
hanging around back there with Donkey," he replied evasively.  
  
"WHAT?!" Fiona blurted.  
  
"Groyl, what's happened to our son?" Moyre asked from beneath the  
princess.  
  
Suddenly there was a small cracking sound. The ogresses gasped as a  
split could be seen starting across the root just a few inches above  
where Fiona grasped it.  
  
"First things first," Groyl said. "We need t'get ye outta this  
hole!"  
  
With that he sat up again and quickly looked about the relatively  
barren ground immediately around him for something that would give  
him leverage. Then he noticed the unconscious villager's pitchfork  
lying nearby. Groyl grabbed the pitchfork and drove it hard into  
the ground near the pit's edge, the prongs sinking in almost to  
their tops.  
  
Groyl then laid himself flat on the ground so just the upper part of  
his body from the middle of his chest onward were over the  
Drainpipe's edge. He then reached down with both hands and took  
hold of the root that Fiona was hanging onto. With a great grunt he  
carefully pulled upward, trying not to exacerbate the split that was  
gradually spreading on its own. The root and the attached ogresses  
started slowly rising ... one foot ... two feet ... until finally  
Fiona was close enough that Groyl was able to let go of the root  
with his right hand and promptly seize her wrist. Once he had a  
secure hold on her wrist with his right hand, he let go of the root  
with his left hand and quickly grabbed hold of the pitchfork to  
anchor himself. Just as he had done so, the split in the root  
became complete and Fiona gave a short little shriek as she suddenly  
found herself holding onto a useless piece of wood. The rest of the  
root sprang away, out of reach of any of them. Fiona dropped the  
worthless fragment that was left in her hand and grabbed hold of  
Groyl's wrist, mirroring the bond that she maintained with Moyre.  
  
"Okay. That's good," Groyl grunted, his aged sinews straining as he  
was now supporting the full weight of two ogresses. "Now, Moyre,  
can ye climb over --"  
  
"No, she can't," Fiona said.  
  
"I think I broke me left arm," Moyre explained. "Anyway, I can't  
raise it."  
  
"Oh, great," Groyl sighed. "Well, just hold on. I'll try to --"  
  
Suddenly the ground shifted below Groyl, collapsing a few inches  
where he lay. Both ogresses shrieked this time as the sudden  
shudder traveled down Groyl's arm and started them swaying again in  
the blackness. Except for the involuntary swaying, all three ogres  
froze in fright, their grips on each other growing tighter.  
  
"DAD, ARE YE ALL OKAY?!" Groyl heard Shrek's agitated voice call  
from across the valley.  
  
"WE'RE FINE, SON! EVERYTHING'S STABLE NOW!" Groyl called back, not  
sure if he was right or not. Then he looked down at the females and  
said, "Maybe we should just stay still for a wee bit."  
  
"Agreed," Fiona said, trying to regain control of her breath.  
  
"Fiona," Moyre said softly, "let me go."  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Fiona blinked, not sure she's heard correctly. She looked down at  
Moyre, trying to make her face out in the darkness. "What did you  
say?" the princess asked.  
  
"Ye heard me right," Moyre said. "You two try 'n heave me outta  
here and we'll all likely get killed. I'm old. I've lived my life.  
You and my son have just started yours. So please, don't throw that  
away trying t'save an old windbag like me. Just let me go."  
  
"What're ye SAYING, woman?!" Groyl asked, alarmed.  
  
"I don't think I can make it any PLAINER, ye'old beast!" Moyre  
replied, her soft tone now tinged with irritation. "You know I'm  
right. So tell your daughter-in-law t'let me go!"  
  
"I ... I can't do that!" Groyl said, his voice choking a bit.  
  
Moyre sighed. "Ye always were a softie, Groyl, no matter how hard  
ye tried to hide it" she said with surprising tenderness. "I'll see  
ye later." She then let go of Fiona's wrist.  
  
"NO!" Fiona cried, tightening her own grip on Moyre's wrist. The  
princess tried to summon her most authoritative command voice.  
"Stop this! Moyre, you grab back hold of my arm NOW!"  
  
Moyre shook her head, unimpressed. "Ye can't hold onto me forever,  
Fiona," she said glumly.  
  
"Oh, can't I?" Fiona asked, her thoughts drifting back to an  
unexpected adventure on the trip to her and Shrek's honeymoon  
destination, when a post-corporeal Farquaad had attempted to  
assassinate her and her companions by plunging them over a  
waterfall. She had found herself in a similar situation, clinging  
on for dear life in the middle of a living chain, but back then she  
had had to uphold the weight of both Shrek and Donkey. She had done  
it, too, finding the strength from somewhere, holding on until a  
support above them gave way and broke the chain, but long enough for  
Dragon to get into position to save their lives. If she had to find  
the strength to sustain Moyre's relatively lighter load, then she'd  
do that that, too, for as long as it took. "You're be surprised at  
what I can do, Moyre," Fiona said.  
  
"After what I've seen today, I doubt that," Moyre chuckled wryly.  
"And dear, I'd be honored if ye'd call me 'Mom'."  
  
"Why ... thank you," Fiona said softly, genuinely moved. She then  
reluctantly ushered more steel into her voice as she added, "And ...  
Mom ... I'd be honored if you'd GRAB HOLD OF MY BLASTED WRIST!"  
  
"Fiona, I'm the past," Moyre said forlornly. "You're the future.  
Ye owe it to Shreklecheh t'save yourself. You've got a pack of my  
grandkids to give 'em. They need an example like you t'show 'em  
what being an ogress is all about."  
  
Fiona tried desperately to think of something else to break Moyre's  
despondency. Then an idea occurred to her. She winced inwardly.  
This was going to be painful, but it was the only thing she could  
think of at the moment. "Well," Fiona said, "better me than you, I  
suppose."  
  
Moyre blinked, confused. "I BEG your pardon?" she asked.  
  
"As an example of an ogress," Fiona continued, injecting a tone of  
rebuke into her voice. "I mean, I wouldn't want them to just GIVE  
UP when the going gets tough, like YOU'RE doing now."  
  
Moyre's eyes narrowed. "Fiona --" she began through clenched teeth.  
  
"But then, what DO I know about being a REAL ogress?" Fiona  
interrupted her. "You were right earlier. I certainly didn't have  
any training in it growing up. YOU'RE the only example I've ever  
had. And look at you, ready to just take the easy way out and give  
up, not even CARING about the grief you'll cause your husband and  
son. Not to mention the schism you'll cause between Shrek and me,  
him knowing that I let you drop into the abyss. But as long as you  
get to play the martyr, oh, that's just fine with you!"  
  
Moyre's upper lip started curling back from her teeth and one eye  
started twitching as she began to grumble, "That's enou--"  
  
"I don't know," Fiona again cut her mother-in-law off. "Maybe ogres  
like Shrek and Groyl are exceptions. Perhaps most ogres are more  
like you, or at least the females are, and whatever stronger  
personality traits I have really ARE from my human side. Hey, I  
know what! Once Groyl and I get out of here I'm going to see what I  
can do about finding someway, somehow to restore my humanity. Purge  
this slimy green ogre stain once and for all! After all, I AM a  
princess, I've GOT connections. I'm sure I can find SOMEBODY to  
help. Maybe I'll even find another batch of that 'Happily Ever  
After' potion somewhere and bring Shrek over with me! After all,  
I've got him wrapped around my little finger, he'll do ANYTHING I  
ask. Then we can both move in with my royal family and live happily  
ever after as humans! That would certainly take care of having to  
worry about your moronic ogre marriage rules, and any children that  
we have will be humans themselves, not swamp-dwelling aberrations.  
Heck, we won't even tell them of our past -- why burden them with  
the dishonor of knowing their parents were once despicable beasts?  
At any rate, I'll at least know my daughters won't grow up to be  
big, ugly, scraggly-haired monsters who'd just give up when faced  
with the least peril, like YOU!"  
  
"Why you pernicious, over-inflated tadpole!" Moyre growled, her eyes  
flaring. Her right hand -- more like a claw now -- again clenched  
Fiona's wrist in a grip so tight that, had Fiona been human, it  
would have crushed it. "We'll settle this LATER!" Moyre added  
ominously through grinding teeth.  
  
"Looking forward to it, lady. Bring it on!" Fiona retorted, trying  
to feign defiance while masking her relief.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Dragon landed with a thump in the clearing in front of Shrek and  
Fiona's home. A moment later six dragon/donkey hybrids all pattered  
to landings around her. They measured some six feet long now from  
the tips of their equine snouts to the ends of their reptilian  
tails, and all began making excited noises, anticipating seeing  
their father emerge from his friends' home to greet them. Some of  
the offspring were so energized they accidentally released little  
spurts of flame from their mouths.  
  
But Donkey didn't appear. And neither did any ogres.  
  
Dragon's yellow eyes narrowed in concern. She made a curt little  
roar, signaling her children to be still. They did so, or as best  
as they could given their youth and the genes they inherited from  
their father.  
  
The swamp was quiet.  
  
Too quiet.  
  
Dragon tapped on the door with one claw. After a few seconds with  
no answer, she pushed it open, leaned down and held an eye to the  
doorway. She could see no one inside. But then she detected the  
smell.  
  
It was an ogre. A new one. A stranger. No, not one. TWO. Two  
strange ogres had been here recently. Their smells were  
particularly similar to Shrek -- they were perhaps even related --  
but they were strangers nonetheless. They had arrived, and now  
Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey had vanished.  
  
Dragon sat up. Her eyes glowed slightly and her bright red lips  
curled back a bit. A little smoke escaped from her nostrils. She  
made a short, louder roar to see if she would get any response from  
anywhere else in the swamp, in case the occupants had simply gone  
for a walk or some similarly innocuous activity. But she received  
no reply. She then began sniffing around the ground. After a  
minute or so she was able to determine a particularly recent trail  
of scents -- encompassing Shrek, Fiona, Donkey, as well as the new  
ogres -- oddly, one of the new ogre's smells was slightly more fresh  
than the other's -- heading off across the clearing in a relatively  
straight path. Dragon lifted her head and looked past the clearing,  
extrapolating where that path would lead. She then spread her great  
wings, growled for her children to follow her, and took off in the  
direction that the scents seemed to be heading.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
As the pack of panicked peasants plunged down the path through the  
rocky, hilly terrain back toward their village, they had to pass  
through a particularly narrow -- some ten yards wide -- gorge  
between a couple of steep hills. As they approached it, a tall,  
burly, bearded figure wearing a brown Stetson cowboy hat and sitting  
atop a cream-colored stallion rode out into the middle of the  
passage.  
  
"Greetings, gentlemen," the stranger said jovially, a wickedly  
playful gleam in his eyes. "In a hurry?"  
  
"SHERIFF!" several of the villagers at the front of the group  
gasped, stopping in their tracks. This caused some of the villagers  
following them to run into the ones that had stopped, resulting in  
about half of the villagers ending up on the ground.  
  
As they scrambled to their feet, the sheriff nodded toward one of  
the villagers who was still carrying his pitchfork. "I'd say that  
this is a rather odd and out-of-the-way place to be working with  
haystacks," he observed dryly. "You all wouldn't by chance be going  
against my orders and harassing a certain neighboring contingent of  
the green persuasion, would you?"  
  
The peasants looked at each other guiltily.  
  
"I thought you might," the sheriff said. "And I assume you failed  
again?"  
  
The peasants now looked embarrassed as well as guilty.  
  
"I thought you might have done that as well," the sheriff chuckled  
mirthlessly. "You know, some lawmen might consider the shame and  
disgrace that comes from such incompetent ineptitude punishment  
enough."  
  
The villagers looked at him hopefully.  
  
"However, I'M not such a lawman," the sheriff said with a sneer.  
"You're all under arrest!"  
  
The villagers now panicked again. "RUN AWAY!" one of them cried,  
and they began to scatter in two groups, one trying to make it  
through one side of the gorge around the sheriff and another group  
through the other. The sheriff quickly took his rope, swung it in a  
circle through the air a few times to loosen its lasso end, and then  
threw the lasso at a group of the fleeing villagers. The noose fell  
across the midsection of three of them; the sheriff yanked on the  
rope and the noose tightened across the group, binding their arms to  
their sides and causing them to fall to the ground with muffled  
grunts.  
  
As another group of villagers tried to run through the gorge to the  
sheriff's rear, the crook end of a shepherd's staff suddenly  
appeared from an outcropping, hooking the neck of the lead fleeing  
villager, causing his feet to fly forward while his body fell  
backwards. He landed in a heap on the hard ground, hitting his head  
and knocking himself out cold. The villager just behind him came to  
a sudden halt, mouth agape, as he looked down on his companion. He  
then looked back up as Bo Peep stepped away from the outcropping,  
her staff held at the ready, a self-satisfied little smirk on her  
lips. "Why you little --" the villager began, but didn't get any  
further as Bo whipped the bottom end of her staff upward, striking  
the villager between his legs. The man gasped and fell to his  
knees. Bo then quickly brought the crook end of her staff down on  
his head. The man collapsed by his companion, as unconscious as he.  
  
Two more villagers were behind these. They stared wide-eyed at Bo.  
Bo twirled her staff over her head like a baton for a couple of  
seconds, the rod making a swishing sound, and then she struck a  
crouching pose while holding the staff horizontally above her head  
with one hand like a samurai warrior holding his sword, the crook  
end of the staff pointing at the awe-struck villagers.  
  
"Any other customers?" she challenged.  
  
The men blushed and meekly held up their hands in surrender.  
  
"Good work, Bo!" the sheriff said admiringly, still atop his horse.  
  
"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him.  
  
The sheriff's features then hardened as his eyes shifted to the last  
group of four fleeing peasants. "You keep these covered," he said,  
nodding toward the men holding up their hands. "I'll go round up  
the rest."  
  
"What about the ogres?" Bo asked.  
  
The sheriff shrugged. "Apparently these yokels fouled up again.  
I'm sure the ogres are just fine."  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The Piper could feel the hate building within him. Normally he did  
not allow emotions to get in the way of his business -- that was  
usually a reckless, foolhardy thing to do. But this ogress had not  
only bettered him, but embarrassed him. Embarrassment was not  
something he took well. So he had slunk off up the southern hill  
overlooking the Drainpipe, but instead of fleeing, he had sought out  
a small cave where he could observe the valley below him while  
remaining hidden himself, and perhaps find some way to cause  
mischief to the ogress or her party. He was glad he had decided to  
do so, as he now gazed down with glee upon the two helpless groups;  
the older ogre trying to support the two ogresses trapped in the  
Drainpipe while the other ogre was on the verge of being sucked down  
into the new sinkhole as the donkey held onto him for dear life.  
  
The Piper's glee quickly faded, however, when he heard the roar from  
overhead and looked up to see the large red dragon. He had heard  
tales about the great beast and its unlikely relationship with the  
donkey. And he had to shake his head in bewilderment when he saw  
the hybrid offspring trailing their mother as she had seen the  
quandary of her companions and was heading in for a landing.  
  
Then a smile returned to the Piper's face as he realized that this  
was something he could use to his advantage. He quickly detached  
the case from his belt, laid it out in front of him, and opened it.  
He scanned through the remaining mouthpieces until he found the one  
with the label he sought: 'DragonMaster 1000'. He then reached down  
inside a special crevice in his right boot and withdrew his smaller,  
spare chalumeau.  
  



	11. Layer 10: Hanging On for a Hero

Layer 10: Hanging On for a Hero  
  
"YES!" Shrek shouted excitedly when he saw Dragon circling overhead as he struggled to maintain his position in the sinkhole and not slip any further.  
  
Donkey glanced up from where he maintained his grip on Shrek's vest. "AW RIGHT!" he said through his clenched teeth, the corners of his mouth turning upward in a smile.  
  
The excitement and smiles were wiped away, however, when it became clear that Dragon was now coming in for one of her typical, not-  
very-soft landings, and she was heading for the area directly between the Drainpipe and the new sinkhole.  
  
"NO!" Shrek shouted as she began the last phase of her descent. "NOT THERE! NOT --"  
  
Dragon landed with a thump, her head toward Shrek and Donkey, her rear toward the Drainpipe. At the Drainpipe, the resulting tremor sent Groyl sinking a couple of more inches and the ogresses shrieked yet again. But at the new sinkhole the effects were more extreme. The last support under Shrek's arms collapsed and he began dropping through the hole in earnest now with Donkey, who refused to release his grip on his friend's vest, starting to topple in after him. But Dragon quickly leaned down and grabbed Donkey's tail with her mouth just as he was falling through. She then lifted him out of the sinkhole, Shrek trailing underneath him as Donkey maintained his grip. "OW OW OW OW," Donkey kept saying as Dragon gently swung him and the trailing ogre away from the sinkhole and dropped them in a heap a few yards to its side.  
  
"Oh, man!" Donkey said from where he lay, looking back at his rear. "A few more seconds of THAT and we'd a' had to play 'Pin the Tail BACK On the Donkey'!"  
  
"Thanks Dragon!" Shrek shouted, scrambling to his feet and immediately pointing past Dragon toward the Drainpipe. "Quick! Get the rest of my family! Hurry!"  
  
Dragon smiled, nodded, and began turning around towards the Drainpipe.  
  
Shrek then looked down at Donkey, who had started moving his jaws about as if trying to readjust the set of his teeth. "And thank YOU, Donkey," the ogre said gently and with a grateful smile. "Ye literally saved my life."  
  
"Hey, man, forget it!" Donkey said, smiling back and hopping to his feet. "But I AM gonna send ya my dental bill!"  
  
Shrek began to chuckle, but just then they heard chalumeau music start playing from somewhere up along the southern hill. Both he and Donkey looked up in that direction, their brows knit in surprise and concern.  
  
"Oh-oh," Donkey said. "What's Zamfir up to now?"  
  
"I don't know," Shrek replied, "but maybe we should -- " Shrek looked in the direction of the Drainpipe. Dragon had turned around so that her tail was toward the ogre and Donkey. She was also standing now on three of her feet, so Shrek could see along the ground underneath her to the top of the pit. She had begun reaching down toward the Drainpipe with one of her hand-like front paws, but for some unfathomable reason had stopped. She seemed to be frozen, the paw that would have saved his family hovering only a couple of feet above the pit. Shrek suddenly panicked and without thinking shouted, "WHAT'RE YE WAITING FOR, YE GREAT GLORIFIED GECKO?! PULL 'EM OUT!!"  
  
But Dragon did not pull them out. Instead, she swung her head back and glared down at Shrek and Donkey, her yellow eyes suddenly burning bright and their slit pupils growing narrower. She curled her bright red lips back, exposing her long, white teeth, and roared at them. All this she did while the chalumeau music grew more shrill and urgent in its notes.  
  
Shrek and Donkey stared up at the large, angry beast, their own eyes growing wide and their jaws slack.  
  
"Uh, Shrek," Donkey ventured, "you might wanna rephrase that ..."  
  
Before the ogre could do so, however, Dragon lifted her great tail, poising it just above the two. Shrek and Donkey stared at it in shock for a moment, and then it lashed towards them like an oversized whip. "AHHHH!!" each yelled as they dove in opposite directions to avoid the Dragon's tail, Shrek toward the north and Donkey toward the south. The tail smashed the ground between them where they had stood, opening yet another sinkhole where it struck. Nearby the six hybrid offspring that had just landed cowered together, unsure what to do. They hated it when Mommy and Daddy fought.  
  
Then the cadence of the chalumeau music changed somewhat, and Dragon turned back toward the Drainpipe, repositioning her tail so that it wasn't trailing in the new sinkhole. She stared down at the helpless ogres below her and roared menacingly.  
  
Shrek saw how Dragon reacted to the cadence of the chalumeau music, and his eyes darted to the southern hill. He tried to make out the specific area where the music was originating, tried to find the musician, but he couldn't quite do it. Dragon now stood between him and that hill, but Donkey was at the foot of it.  
  
"DONKEY!" Shrek yelled. "QUICK! TRY AND FIND THAT BLASTED FLUTIST! HE'S CONTROLLING HER!" Shrek then shifted his gaze back toward the red beast as it roared at his family. His jaw set, Shrek added, more to himself than his friend, "I'll take care of Dragon!"  
  
Shrek quickly calculated what he had to do. He looked up the side of the northern hill above him, picked out a spot that he had to get to -- a deep crevice some fifty feet up the slope -- and began scrambling up the side of the hill. He slipped and stumbled several times on his frustrating rush up the incline, but kept his legs churning, and kept one eye on Dragon. Shrek was just about to reach his goal when Dragon opened her mouth, eyes set on the trio below, and began leaning down towards them, saliva dripping from her lips. Panicking, Shrek slipped. He managed to catch hold of a bush, preventing a tumble back down the hill, but he could only watch helplessly as Dragon's mouth was about to close on his family. "NOOOOOO!!!!" Shrek screamed.  
  
Then Dragon halted in mid-bite, but not because of Shrek's exhortation. There were relatively few sensitive areas along Dragon's hide, but the very tip of her spade-shaped tail was one of them. She had suddenly felt an uncomfortable prick there as she closed in on the ogres. It wasn't painful, but it was irritating. So for a moment she turned away from the ogres and looked back toward her tail, and saw what was causing the discomfort. A very small animal had partially sunk its teeth into the tip of the tail and was biting down as best it could.  
  
It was Puppy.  
  
Dragon roared at the canine. The bichon frise's eyes grew wide with fright and she whined a little, but she stubbornly held on. Dragon then flicked her tail. Puppy immediately lost her grip and was sent tumbling across the hard, rocky road until she landed with a thud in the ditch beside it. The little dog lay there, hurt and disoriented, and whimpered. Dragon snarled dismissively at her, then turned back to the Drainpipe.  
  
But Puppy had bought Shrek the time he needed. In the few seconds it took Dragon to deal with the dog, Shrek pulled himself to his feet and made his way up to the edge of the crevice. As Dragon turned back towards the pit, Shrek picked up a rock about the size and weight of a large bowling ball.  
  
"HEY, DRAGON!" Shrek yelled. "FEEL LIKE OGRE MEAT TODAY, DO YE? THEN WHY DON'T YE TRY A PIECE OF ME?!"  
  
With that, Shrek threw the rock. It covered the twenty or so yards that separated them and conked Dragon on the side of the head. Pained and enraged, but with all her facilities still intact, Dragon whirled toward Shrek and gave an even greater roar. Glowing eyes trained on him, she reared back and sucked in a great breath.  
  
Across the valley from the other hillside, Donkey called, "SHREK! LOOK OUT!!"  
  
But Shrek already knew what was coming, and gulped. "Oh, boy," he muttered to himself. "I just hope this crevice is deep enough."  
  
Shrek dove into the crevice just as Dragon released a great torrent of flame. The spray of fire lasted for several seconds, and by the time she was done all that was left of a sizable portion of the hillside around which Shrek had stood was nothing but charred rocks and the blackened, smoldering skeletons of trees.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
From the Drainpipe, only Fiona could see what was transpiring on the hillside, it barely being in her field of vision over the pit's edge. Moyre was too low, and Groyl had his eyes held tight as he concentrated on maintaining his grip -- his aged muscles were apparently nearing their limits. So Fiona alone was treated to the sight of Shrek standing defiantly on the hillside one second, and that hillside bursting into flames the next.  
  
"SHREK, NOOOOOO!!!!" Fiona screamed.  
  
"Fiona! What is it?!" Groyl asked, opening his eyes and trying to turn his head despite the strain.  
  
"Yes! What's happening to our son?!" Moyre pleaded.  
  
Fiona choked back a sob. She felt faint, but forced herself to stay awake, although she wished she could have allowed herself to be enveloped in merciful oblivion at that moment. In fact, she wished she could have just dropped off into that black void beneath her. But even if Shrek was gone, she owed it to him to try to save his mother. The princess batted her eyelids, beating back tears, as she looked again to the hillside. She could see Dragon's head leaning forward, poking and sniffing around the smoky remains at about the spot where Shrek had stood. Perhaps she HAD decided to have a taste of blackened ogre meat, Fiona thought, her stomach turning. Then she gulped and tried to answer his parents. "Shrek is ... he's ..."  
  
Suddenly Shrek appeared. He leapt out of a crevice on the hillside. Some of his face and other parts of his body were black with soot, and his clothes were singed in a couple of places, but he was --  
  
"ALIVE!!" Fiona screamed again, this time with joy. "HE'S ALIVE!!!!"  
  
But then Shrek leapt from the hillside onto the stunned Dragon, landing on the top of her snout, and Fiona worried how long her pronouncement would hold true.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Shrek lay on his stomach, straddling Dragon's snout. His legs dangled to either side just above her nostrils and his head rested just a few feet below her eyes. Those yellow eyes of hers again flared with anger as she glared -- cross-eyed, due to his proximity -- at his soot-stained face. As her lips curled back in a snarl Shrek reached down and grabbed the top lip on either side of her mouth and tried bracing with his legs as best he could for the ride he knew was coming.  
  
It came quickly. Dragon roared and tossed her head back. Shrek's legs flopped off and back on -- causing considerable discomfort as they flopped back on -- but he continued to hold tight to her lips with his massive hands. Dragon tried tossing him again and again, her roars reverberating through the valley and piercing the territory for miles around, but Shrek held on. He was waiting for her to toss her head back in just the right way, and he hoped he could last until then. Finally she pitched her head with the angle he was hoping for, and Shrek let go. He flew off of her snout and directly toward one of her long earflaps. He grabbed the end of the flap as he passed it and held on tight as his weight and momentum then carried him down and under her throat, then back up a bit on the other side of her head. At the apex of the short upswing Shrek reached up desperately with his free hand and managed to grasp the end of her other earflap, which she had fortunately been holding it at a relatively low angle at the time. Suddenly the ogre was now dangling, each hand holding the end of either earflap, just beneath Dragon's throat. He then took a deep breath, braced his knees against Dragon's throat, and pulled down with all his substantial strength on the earflaps, covering the concealed hearing membranes where the flaps connected to her head and hopefully cutting off the sound of that contemptible chalumeau which had continued its incessant playing throughout everything.  
  
Dragon roared yet again, this time in pain as much as anger. She violently shook her head, but the ogre stayed on. She then reached up with her hand-like front paws, grabbed Shrek, and tried to pry him off that way. Shrek groaned with the effort of trying to maintain his grip on the earflaps as Dragon pulled down on him.  
  
"Blast it!" Shrek grunted in frustration. "The Good Lord gave ye immense size, incredible strength, fiery breath, and the ability t'fly. But did He really have t'give ye opposable THUMBS, too?!"  
  
Shrek continued holding on. His great muscles bulged with the effort, his biceps actually starting to rip the material of his shirtsleeves at one point. He hoped he had cut off the music from her hearing. Now if he could just hold on a little longer until her blood cooled ...  
  
But he couldn't. His grip finally slipped, and Dragon's earflaps sprang back up. She roared again, this time in victory. Then she looked down at the ogre she still held, trapped now in her two-  
fisted grip. She snarled at him, and Shrek snarled back. It was the only thing he could do anymore. He glanced down at the Drainpipe and saw Groyl lying there on its edge, struggling to keep Fiona and Moyre from falling into the abyss, yet also now trying to keep one eye trained on him despite the strain. Shrek felt a deep surge of regret that he couldn't have done more to protect them. "Sorry, Father," he lamented quietly. "I tried."  
  
Dragon then began to lift Shrek toward her head, her mouth opening to show large white sparkly teeth now dripping with saliva in anticipation.  
  
"BABE, DON'T DO IT!" Donkey pleaded from the southern hill. "THINK OF OUR FRIENDS! THINK OF THE KIDS! THINK OF THE HEARTBURN!"  
  
But Dragon wasn't hearing him -- that, or she was unable to heed him. She slowly brought Shrek closer to her mouth, and as she did so, she began squeezing him between her paws to make him more compact. As the immense pressure built around his torso, Shrek's reflexes kicked in, causing an entirely predicable if involuntary reaction.  
  
He belched.  
  
It was a long, loud belch, sending a huge plume of putrid gas (Donkey would later swear he could make out a cloud of blue vapor) jetting directly into Dragon's face. Dragon, unfortunately for her, was breathing in at the time. She immediately began to gag, then cough, then wheeze, and then -- just when it looked like she had recovered -- her eyes rolled back in her head as her lids closed over them and she fainted, thudding over onto her back and causing another tremor to ripple throughout the valley. A few seconds later the chalumeau music stopped.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The tremor caused Groyl to sink a couple of more inches, but neither he nor the females seemed to notice very much this time.  
  
"Groyl, what is it? What's going on?" Moyre called from below.  
  
"Yes, what's happening to Shrek?" Fiona added, her view of the latter part of the ogre/dragon battle having been obscured.  
  
"HE DID IT!" Groyl exclaimed, looking down into the pit. "Shrek did it! He defeated the dragon! Knocked her out cold!"  
  
"Oh, thank Heaven," Moyre sighed, and Groyl could hear her murmuring a prayer of thanks.  
  
Meanwhile Fiona's expression melted from one of near terror to one of great relief. She closed her eyes and Groyl could make out her lips quiver in what he suspected was her own offering of gratitude. But then her eyes opened and a self-assured little smile adorned her lips. "Of COURE he did," she said jauntily and with a touch of pride. "You were perhaps expecting some OTHER outcome?"  
  
Groyl laughed and looked over at the fallen dragon where she lay about ten yards from the Drainpipe. Her great chest was heaving in measured breaths and she had begun to snore. Still clutched in her fists was his son, his own eyes closed. He wasn't moving. Groyl's smile disappeared and he yelled, "SHREK! SHREK, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!"  
  
Shrek stirred, then groaned semi-consciously, "Ohhhhhh, man. THAT'S gonna hurt in the 'morn."  
  
"Are you all right, Son?!" Groyl called again.  
  
Shrek blinked, forcing himself back to the here-and-now. "DAD!" he exclaimed, looking over at Groyl. Shrek tried to move towards his father -- but discovered that the dragon's grip, even in unconsciousness, still bound him. He began pushing at her fingers in an attempt to free himself. "I'll be right there, Dad!" Shrek said. "Just hang on a wee bit more!"  
  
It was then that the chalumeau music began playing again.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The Piper had cursed silently but earnestly when he saw the dragon toppled, and stopped playing the chalumeau. He tapped its mouthpiece thoughtfully on his chin while he watched from the mouth of his little hidden cave as the younger ogre fought to free himself from the sleeping dragon's unknowing clutches. Then the Piper noticed the little group of the dragon's hybrid offspring still huddled off to one side, anxiously watching and not knowing what to do. Then a sly smile spread across the Piper's face. Perhaps he could offer them a suggestion.  
  
The Piper pointed the chalumeau at the group of youngsters -- not that aim mattered that much with the silencer gone -- and began playing. He didn't know if this would work on such an oddly mixed species. Indeed, they had apparently not been affected by the music he had played for their mother. Now he tried changing the key and the tempo to one he had found worked well with children before. To his delight, they began to move in obedience to his music. And so he nimbly danced his fingers across the finger holes and concentrated on telling the hybrids what to do.  
  
The hybrids took to the air and flew to the Drainpipe. They then began flying in circles around the older ogre, making little diving passes and with each pass would let go a little burst of flame, burning some part of his body. They were not serious burns, but certainly painful as the Piper could judge by the ogre's reactions and the way he yelped. The younger ogre, now terrified for the other, continued trying to free himself as the elder one somehow managed to continue his grip on the females below despite the blistering pain. The Piper struggled not to chuckle as he continued his playing.  
  
Then suddenly the Piper's field of vision was completely obscured by a great gray and white blob. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and when they did so they saw the donkey's face glowering into his own. The animal was only a few inches away, his brow furled and eyes filled with rage.  
  
"Hey, man!" the donkey fumed. "You're havin' a bad influence on my kids. Time for YOU ta pipe down!"  
  
With that, the equine clamped his sizeable teeth around the chalumeau, ripped it out of the Piper's grip, and then chomped down on it, splintering it into pieces. The donkey turned his head momentarily to spit the pieces down the side of the hill.  
  
"MAN, that was annoying!" the animal said, then turned back and threw his head forward in a powerful head-butt, conking the Piper on his forehead and adding the musician to the growing ranks of the non-conscious.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
The hybrids ceased their circling and alighted a few yards from the Drainpipe, looking confused and contrite. Groyl, more than a dozen small burn marks on his clothes and skin, moaned.  
  
"DAD --" Shrek began as he pried futilely at another one of Dragon's fingers.  
  
"It's all right, Son," Groyl replied, "I can still hold on." But his voice was pained, weak, and tired.  
  
Then suddenly the ground beneath Groyl shifted again, and his body slipped sideways into the Drainpipe. The females and Shrek all screamed. Only Groyl's arm remained above the edge, his hand holding onto the metal neck of the pitchfork. But that pitchfork was now starting to bend with the weight, and in a matter of seconds would peel from the ground, sending all three ogres plunging into the Drainpipe's dark depths.  
  
"OGRE!" a new voice suddenly called.  
  
Shrek looked off to the east to see a cream-colored stallion galloping up the valley towards the Drainpipe. Atop the stallion rode a big, burly man wearing a brown Stetson hat on his head, a sheriff's badge on his shirt, and holding a lasso from one hand. Just behind him sat a young woman brandishing a shepherd's staff. As they drew near the Drainpipe, the sheriff bellowed, "NOW, BO!"  
  
Bo actually stood up on the horse just behind the saddle, holding on to the back of the sheriff's shirt for support with her left hand, and then with her right she hurled her staff like a javelin at the Drainpipe, yelling, "QUICK, GRAB THIS!"  
  
The base of the staff planted itself in the ground just a few inches below where Groyl's hand still clutched the pitchfork, the open part of the staff's crook end pointing away from the riders. As Bo flopped back down behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, the sheriff brought his stallion to a skidding stop, then twirled his lasso and threw it over the staff, nabbing its hook. As he did so, the pitchfork finally peeled from the ground and Groyl had no choice but to grab onto the end of the staff as he slid by it. But it quickly tore out of the ground also and the three ogres, still holding tightly to each other, fell about four feet before the rope became taught, Groyl continuing to grasp the end of the staff as their last support.  
  
Unfortunately, the weight of three ogres was a bit more than the stallion could manage. The rope trailed from the pit for fifteen yards to where it was wrapped around the pommel of the stallion's saddle. The horse's hooves began slipping on the rocky ground as it tried to maintain its footing. It whinnied loudly with the effort, but it became clear that even its powerful muscles couldn't support such weight. As it began slipping backwards toward the pit, the sheriff growled, "Blast it! This wasn't such a good idea after all. We're gonna have to cut the rope -- we don't have a choice!"  
  
"NO!!" Shrek bellowed, and in desperation finally managed to push aside a constraining reptilian finger and tumbled out of the Dragon's grip. He scrambled to his feet and began running towards where the rope emerged from the pit.  
  
The sheriff had his knife out, but seeing Shrek's desperate charge he paused, wanting to give the ogre as much time as he could. But then suddenly the decision was taken from his hands as the pommel broke off and the rope began unwinding into the Drainpipe.  
  
Shrek dove for and grabbed the rope some five yards from the pit's edge and quickly swung his legs around towards the Drainpipe as he was dragged towards it. He dug his heels in and found precarious anchor virtually on the pit's edge. "HANG ON!" he shouted down to his family, his muscles straining to keep his shaky balance while supporting their weight. After a moment he attempted pulling back on the rope, but when he tried his footing along the edge began to give way.  
  
"HOLD ON, SHREK!" Donkey shouted as he galloped in from the southern hill. As he approached the Drainpipe he looked over at his confused offspring and yelled, "HEY, KIDS! WE NEED A LITTLE HELP HERE!" Donkey then grabbed the rope with his mouth just behind Shrek and started pulling along with the ogre. The six hybrids, responding to their father's command, quickly fell in line behind him, each grabbing a part of the rope with their mouth and also pulling, both stepping back with their feet and flapping their wings. The sheriff hastily took what was left of the rope and tied it around the stallion's flanks and had him start pulling again as well.  
  
The rope slowly withdrew from the pit. After what seemed to Shrek an eternity he saw the shepherd's staff, then Groyl's hand ... then his arm ... then his head rising from the pit. A few seconds later and his father was stepping over the edge of the Drainpipe, with Fiona clasped onto his arm and emerging just behind him, and then finally Moyre was hoisted to safety by Fiona. Once the trio had their footing they stumbled forwards several yards away from the Drainpipe and then collapsed onto their knees in exhaustion. As Groyl let go of the life-saving shepherd's staff that had somehow supported three ogres' weight with no perceivable damage, Shrek heard the sheriff behind him say, "Well! That really WAS a Hattori Hanzo staff!"  
  
"Dad! Fiona! Mom! Thank God!" Shrek cried, rushing towards his family, wishing he could embrace them all at once. He decided he'd begin with his father. He sank to his knees in front of the bruised, burned, and exhausted older ogre and threw his arms around him. "Ye did it, Dad!" Shrek gushed. "Ye saved everybody!"  
  
Groyl hugged Shrek back for a few seconds, then leaned away and ran a finger across Shrek's soot-smeared face. "It seems I'm not the only one," he said, smiling. Shrek smiled back, then the two hugged again.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Fiona sat on her knees, panting, watching the father and son interaction with a smile of her own. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked back to see Moyre, also still on her knees, a stern expression on her face.  
  
"Fiona," Moyre began, "about back there --"  
  
"Oh, Moyre, I'm so sorry!" Fiona said. "I didn't mean any of that, really! I was just trying to --"  
  
Moyre lifted her right hand and laid its fingers against Fiona's lips, silencing her. The older ogress then smiled impishly. "I know, dear," she said. "Ye had me going for a little while, but I eventually figured it out. Like I said, I'm not stupid. Well, except for forming bad preconceptions. The way I acted when I first met ye, that WAS stupid indeed. I couldn't have been more wrong. It's me that needs t'apologize, and I do. I'm sorry, Fiona. When it comes to ogresses, dear, you're a credit to the species. And when it comes to daughters-in-law, I couldn't have asked for better."  
  
Fiona felt tears begin to well in her eyes. "Thank you, Moy--"  
  
"Tut!" Moyre said, holding up the palm of her hand. "What did I say to call me?"  
  
Fiona grinned. "Thank you, MOM," she said, then leaned forward and gave Moyre a hug. Moyre hugged back with her right arm.  
  
"Oh, and Fiona?" Moyre said, a little uncomfortably.  
  
"Yes, Mom?"  
  
"Could ye not squeeze quite so hard on my left arm? It smarts like the dickens."  
  
"OH!" Fiona gasped, leaning back and looking with concern at Moyre's left arm. "I'm sorry! I --"  
  
"It's all right," Moyre chuckled. "I'll live. Again, thanks to you. Oh, and I also wanted to apologize to ye for that 'tadpole' quip I made back there."  
  
Fiona giggled. "That's quite all right, Mom," she said. "Given the circumstances, we --"  
  
"'Tadpole'?" Shrek said. "She really called ye ... a 'tadpole'?"  
  
Fiona looked over to see Shrek -- in fact, to see everybody -- staring at her and Moyre. "Well, yes," she said, blushing somewhat in embarrassment. "You see, I was trying to get Moyre to --"  
  
But Shrek had started chuckling. Then laughing. Then bellylaughing. Beside him, Donkey also began chuckling, and then suddenly keeled over on his back and started laughing heartily as well. Then Groyl started laughing and quickly looked away, and even Moyre's face sprang a grin that she hastily covered with her right hand. Even the sheriff and Bo smiled at the scene before them.  
  
Fiona blushed even more deeply, then rose to her feet, glared at Shrek and demanded, "WHAT is so FUNNY?!"  
  
"Sorry, Fi," Shrek said, getting back to his own feet as his laughter started to fade. "It's just that it's such a relief to ... oh, sweet HEAVEN you're a gorgeous sight!"  
  
Fiona couldn't help but smile despite herself as Shrek, brimming with elation, approached her and took her in his arms. But then Shrek's smile turned mischievous. "You're not like a tadpole at all," he said, leaning off to the side and looking around her back towards her buttocks. "You've got a much cuter --"  
  
"Shrek!" Fiona interrupted him, blushing again and nodding back towards Moyre, who had risen herself. "We've got company!"  
  
"No," Shrek corrected his wife. "We've got family. A family still intact, thanks to YOU."  
  
"Aye," Moyre agreed. "You've got quite a jewel there, Son. Ye take care of her."  
  
"A CROWN jewel," Shrek added. "And we'll be taking care of each other. Eh, Fiona?"  
  
Fiona's smile deepened. "Aye," she said, causing Shrek to chuckle. Fiona giggled. Then their lips drew near each other --  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
They were interrupted as suddenly a new tremor rippled through the valley. More of the surrounding edge again toppled into the Drainpipe, as well as the other two, newer sinkholes. Then various small fissures began running from the sinkholes and weaving zigzag patterns across the valley.  
  
"Oh m'God!" Moyre gasped. "It feels like this whole valley's about to collapse!"  
  
"QUICK!" the sheriff shouted, pointing toward the southern hill. "Everybody get up on that hillside! NOW!"  
  
Groyl grabbed Moyre's right arm and hurried her toward the hillside. Bo quickly retrieved her staff and she and the sheriff followed, his horse trailing close behind. Shrek tried to lead Fiona up the hillside, but then a whining noise distracted her and she looked towards the road to see Puppy still in the ditch, many yards away, whimpering. Its right front paw was apparently hurt, and she couldn't pull herself from the depression.  
  
"You go on!" Fiona said to Shrek, pulling away from him and running towards Puppy. "I'll be right back!"  
  
"FIONA!" Shrek called after her. "PLEASE! You --"  
  
Then Shrek noticed Donkey. He was still in the valley as well. He had run over to the front of the unconscious, snoring Dragon's face and was speaking to her in a very agitated tone while their six hybrid offspring literally hovered around their parents, frightened expressions on their faces.  
  
"BABE! WAKE UP!" Donkey implored. "PLEASE! YOU'VE GOTTA SNAP OUTTA THIS DEATH VALLEY DAZE!"  
  
Shrek saw one of the expanding fissures zigzagging towards his furry friend. "DONKEY! LOOK OUT!" he called, but the equine didn't hear him as he continued trying to awaken his lifemate. Shrek ran across the valley towards him, grabbing Donkey without breaking stride and stepping away just before the fissure crossed the spot where Donkey had been standing and opened yet another sinkhole there. Shrek continued running, now carrying a struggling Donkey, until he was striding up the northern hillside and away from danger. He then sat Donkey down and turned to look back. Fissures continued to open across the valley, and Dragon suddenly sank a couple of feet upon the ground where she lay.  
  
"NO!" Donkey cried, and tried running back.  
  
"Stop, Donkey!" Shrek said, grabbing his friend's tail. "Ye can't do anything for her now!"  
  
"No! Lemme go!" Donkey pleaded. "She needs me!"  
  
But Shrek's eyes were watching for Fiona. To his relief he saw she had Puppy cradled under her right arm and was starting up the southern hillside where his parents, the humans, and the stallion were already safely standing. But then there was a moan from near the Drainpipe that caught her attention. Shrek followed her gaze. The villager that had had the pitchfork to Moyre's back and that Fiona had knocked out was starting to come around, moaning and moving very slightly. Shrek judged that it would still take some time before he fully regained consciousness. Too much time, unfortunately, for along the ground about him ran several fissures.  
  
Fiona stared at the villager from where she stood near the foot of the hillside -- and supposed safety. She seemed to be debating with herself what to do.  
  
"Don't do it, Fi," Shrek mumbled to himself. "He's not worth it. Just keep going up the hill --"  
  
To Shrek's relief, Fiona started up the hillside. But she only went up a few paces, set Puppy down, then turned back around and started running across the valley towards the fallen human.  
  
"FIONA, NO!" Shrek shouted. He let go of Donkey and started down the hillside towards her. But he had only gotten a few steps when the collapse began.  
  
It started around Dragon. Half the valley seemed to collapse beneath the multi-ton monster, and the great beast toppled in. Shrek thought he could just make out one of her eyes finally begin to lazily open as she disappeared into the huge maw of darkness, followed by Donkey's terrified scream. The hybrids flew up and away from the area in fright, then hovered several yards away, looking down into the emptiness and whining. The collapse continued rolling across the valley. It enveloped the area around Fiona just as she reached down and snatched up the villager by the front of his shirt. As the ground disintegrated around her and she also dropped into the darkness, Shrek joined Donkey in his horrified cry.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
"Royal blunder, Princess," Fiona chided herself angrily as she suddenly found herself in freefall. She looked towards the northern hill, and her last vision before she fell into the void was Shrek standing helplessly near its base, his eyes wide in terror as he stared at her and called her name, one hand reaching futilely out towards her. Fiona reached back towards him with her free hand as she descended into the darkness. She felt a tear of regret forming in the corner of one eye. "I'll see you later," she said softly.  
  
She then looked down into nothingness as the speed of her descent increased. She tried to remember how long it had taken that chalumeau to reach the bottom of the pit, but couldn't quite recount the seconds. Oh, well, no matter. She would find out soon enough. The villager whose shirt she still grasped and who had not yet fully regained consciousness moaned again in blissful oblivion. Fiona envied him.  
  
But suddenly something appeared in the darkness amidst the falling debris directly below her -- two yellow, gleaming orbs with slit pupils. For a split second Fiona feared that perhaps the Devil's Drainpipe was too literally named, but then she realized what she was seeing, and she smiled. The orbs grew larger as they drew rapidly closer, and then Fiona was able to hear it -- the sound of flapping reptilian wings. Suddenly the gleaming eyes flew past her and upward, and just as they did so Fiona gasped as she was suddenly plucked out of the air by the adroit fingers of a huge paw that snugly encircled her torso. The change of direction was so drastic that Fiona nearly dropped the villager -- no great loss, she thought with a smirk.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
When he saw Fiona disappear from view, Shrek had fallen to his knees, nearly losing his balance on the hillside and tumbling into the depths himself. Not that it would have mattered much, he thought mournfully. Now, a few moments later, Shrek was still on his knees, one huge arm around Donkey as the two grieving friends, heads bowed, quietly consoled each other.  
  
Suddenly, with a roar of triumph, Dragon emerged from the darkness and continued flying straight up into the sky, the fading rays of sunset glistening off of her scaly red hide. In her right front paw she clutched Fiona, who in turn continued grasping the villager in one hand like a floppy rag doll.  
  
Shrek bounced jubilantly to his feet and cheered heartily, as did Donkey and the group on the opposite hillside. The six hybrids bounced up and down and flitted in the air for several seconds around Shrek and Donkey, excitedly yelling "Ma! Ma!" before flying off to greet their mother.  
  
"I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT, BABE!" Donkey yelled happily as Dragon made a little loop in the sky before starting to circle in for a landing.  
  
"Of course ye did!" Shrek laughed, leaning down and rubbing the top of Donkey's head in a 'noogie' as the ogre was carried away in his own joy. Donkey didn't object this time as he usually did at the gesture, but instead laughed along with him. With his head temporarily forced down, Donkey had time to really notice the new, great open maw that lay below him where the valley floor had been. More was visible now with so much of the former surface gone, but it all still faded into a great black nothingness, a now gigantic pit.  
  
"Woooow!" Donkey gasped in awe. "Good-bye Sunnydale!" 


	12. Layer 11: Interludes

Layer 11: Interludes

Some time later the sun had set, to be replaced with a big, bright  
full moon that cast an eerie luminosity over the scene that was  
taking place in a clearing a short distance from the former valley.  
The sheriff was just finishing binding the hands of the last of the  
villagers to the rope. The rope now connected all of the culprits  
arrested that day together. The Piper, trying to maintain an air of  
dignity, was the first in the rope gang line, followed by Fledgud  
and then the rest of the villagers. Bo stood nearby, beside the  
sheriff's stallion, and across from them stood the ogres and their  
friends.

Fiona, a thoughtful expression on her face, cradled Puppy in her  
arms, petting the dog's head gently as she watched the sheriff doing  
his job. Shrek, his own face set in a scowl as he surveyed the line  
of villains, stood right beside her, a large arm firmly and  
protectively draped over her shoulders. Next to them stood Groyl  
and Moyre, whose expressions mirrored their son's. Each of the  
older ogres had an arm around the others' waist or as far around  
their waist was possible. Moyre's left arm, the one that was not  
clinging to her husband, now hung in a makeshift sling. Next to  
them sat Donkey and Dragon, with their offspring sitting or pacing  
in various spots around them. Donkey looked up to offer Dragon a  
grin, but noticed her staring across at the sheriff's stallion, an  
odd smile on her face. Donkey glanced over to see the stallion gulp  
nervously and smile awkwardly back at her. Donkey then looked back  
up at Dragon, one eyebrow cocked, his expression one of uneasy  
suspicion. Dragon then noticed her mate looking at her, blushed in  
embarrassment, then offered him a shy smile and abashed shrug.

All this was interrupted when the sheriff announced, "There! That  
should do you all until we get you back to Typical. Sorry we don't  
have a paddy carriage to provide more amenable transport, but you'll  
just have to tough it." The tone of his voice did not sound like he  
truly regretted their inconvenience.

The sheriff then trudged back up the line, giving each of the  
villagers a surly stare, each of whom in turn turned their heads  
away and down ashamedly, until he at last reached the front of the  
line and stared into the face of the Piper. The Piper a large  
knot on his forehead stared defiantly back at the lawman.

"Thomas T. Piper," the sheriff said. "In trouble with the law ever  
since that stint you served in juvy for stealing that pig. A pity  
really, since your father was such a respected member of the  
community at the time "

"My father? Peter?" the Piper said derisively. "Ha! The man spent  
his entire life working day and night picking pecks of pickled  
peppers for that Vlasic plant. And what did it get him? A pension  
that would barely pay for his bread and butter, and notoriety as the  
butt of some insipid kids' tongue-twister. No! I wanted MORE out  
of life than that!"

"Well, you got it," the sheriff said. "Right now you have multiple  
charges of attempted murder facing you. Congratulations!"

"Murder?" the Piper said, then sneered over towards Shrek and his  
family. "I hardly think that murder laws apply to such creatures as  
OGRES. Besides, even if they did, all I did was lead one ogre into  
the valley. I never tried to make her go into the pit."

"Oh? Aren't you forgetting the little incident with the dragon?"

The Piper shrugged. "All I was doing at the time was trying out a  
new pipe," he explained. "Am -I- to be held liable if some  
unpredictable, homicidal monster just happens to take that same  
moment to go berserk? Really! Fairytale beings really DO need to  
start taking more responsibility for their own actions and stop  
blaming sorcery."

Dragon's eyes narrowed. She emitted a deep growl from her throat,  
and blew puffs of smoke from her nostrils.

"Uh, at any rate," the Piper continued uncomfortably, "I'm sure my  
lawyer will clear all this up."

"Lawyers," the sheriff said with distain, then spat disgustedly on  
the ground. "You always were in tune with rats, weren't you, Piper?  
Well, even if you find some wiggle room out of THIS, there's several  
OTHER cases waiting for you from around the kingdom, starting with  
multiple counts of kidnapping from that town of Hamlin. Plus,  
you'll be interested in knowing that we've finally indicted your  
contact to the Fairytale Underworld and I'm NOT talking about the  
seven dwarves' mine! I'm sure you'll recognize his moniker; he was  
known as 'The Pie Man'. He sliced a deal with us, though, and has  
opened up and is singing like a blackbird. No doubt it's just a  
matter of time now and you'll be going down like a giant on a  
toppled beanstalk!"

"Impossible!" the Piper objected. "How "

"We planted an agent inside the Pie Man's business, somebody who he  
never suspected," the sheriff said. "You might even have crossed  
our man's path. He went by the name of 'Simon'."

"SIMON!" the Piper exclaimed, stunned. "That simpleton? He " The  
Piper suddenly seemed to realize he was saying too much, and shut  
his mouth.

"Yes, he was a pretty good actor. Eh, Piper?" the sheriff goaded  
him.

The Piper stared distastefully at the sheriff, but didn't reply.  
The sheriff cast a last dismissive glance at the Piper then moved  
down to the next perpetrator on the rope. "Speaking of rats," the  
sheriff said, "here's a prime specimen!" He looked the bound  
villager up and down, then said, "I believe I warned you to stay  
away from the ogres, Feldgud."

Feldgud, red-faced, glowered back at the sheriff. "Well, SOMEBODY  
had to take responsibility for protecting our village from these  
green beasts. And it obviously wasn't going to be YOU."

"How can you SAY that!" Fiona said, half in anger and half in true  
dismay. "We've done nothing to YOU! Plus, I saved your useless  
LIFE, you murderous, ungrateful son of a ... son of a ..."

The little female dog in Fiona's arms barked.

"Yeah, what she said!" Donkey chimed in.

"HA!" Feldgud guffawed. "Better THAT than the daughter of an  
amphibian!"

"UGH! You CUR!" Fiona spat. "Have you, in the end, no sense of  
decency whatsoever!"

"Of COURSE I do! It's for the decent, the moral, and the  
traditional human way of life that I fight! Have YOU no sense of  
HUMANITY? Casting your lot with these monstrous brutes? Set to  
become breeding stock for more of these ... THINGS!"

Fiona was finding it harder to keep herself from physically lashing  
out at Feldgud. She bore her teeth and began trembling in fury.  
Puppy whined, both sensing her distress and feeling the princess  
unconsciously squeezing her tighter.

Shrek laid a hand gently on Fiona's shoulder. "Take it easy, Fi,"  
he said, his face also twisted in disgust as he beheld Feldgud. "Ye  
can't talk sense into 'em. Ye should'a just let him drop into the  
pit of darkness. That's where his mentality's trapped anyway."

"Ah-ha!" Feldgud blurted. "You see? Murderous brutes all! You've  
just proven my point!"

"The only point YOU have is the one that sits atop your imbecilic  
head!" Fiona spat back. "But that's only appropriate, considering  
how narrow a mind it houses! And just what business is it of yours  
WHAT we do in our swamp, anyway?"

"Are you kidding? You're OGRES. We're HUMANS. We know it's just a  
matter of time before you and your hatchlings come down and steal  
away our precious young to satiate your fiendish palates! We have  
no intention of sacrificing our children to your monstrous  
appetites!"

"AHHHH!" Fiona screamed skyward in frustration, then to Feldgud,  
demanded, "If I'm a member of such a horrible species as you  
describe, then why would I endanger myself to save your miserable  
life?"

"That? I'd say that was due to the lingering dregs of what's left  
of your humanity, somehow peeking out through that thick, green,  
smelly hide!"

Fiona turned to Shrek. "I think I'm either going to kill him or I'm  
going to be sick. Or both," she said, trying desperately now to  
keep her temper from boiling over completely.

"Join the club," Shrek agreed, looking passed her to the villager,  
the ogre's scowl deepening.

The sheriff, who had been observing the altercation with quiet  
amusement, his arms casually crossed, now chuckled. "You know,  
Feldgud," he said, "that mouth of your is really going to land you  
in some hot water one of these days. And since these are ogres that  
you insist on baiting, that might turn out to be literal. But as  
far as her humanity saving your worthless behind, you might have  
noticed that no HUMAN risked their lives for yours. I certainly  
know that I wasn't going to risk MINE under those circumstances."

"And that goes double here!" Bo said.

"Oh, shut up!" Feldgud scolded Bo. "I don't want to hear another  
peep out of you! You're the biggest traitor here! You were  
supposed to keep the sheriff preoccupied. We had a deal!"

"You never said anything about trying to kill any ogres!" Bo shot  
back.

"Oh, good grief, Bo! What did you THINK I wanted you to keep him  
away from the Drainpipe for?"

"Well, I confess, I didn't really care much at the time, as long as  
you gave me a chance to leave," Bo admitted sheepishly. "But then,  
riding with the sheriff, he told me about how badly you had it in  
for the ogre newlyweds and, well, my conscious got the better of me.  
Then, after spending a little more time with the sheriff " here  
she looked up at the lawman, smiled and batted her eyes "I was a  
changed woman!" Then she laid a hand on the rock-hard bicep of his  
arm, leaned against him, and sighed. The sheriff grinned down at  
her.

"Oh, brother!" Feldgud moaned. "Now I think that I'M gonna be  
sick!"

"Fine," the sheriff said. "But make it a walking sickness. It's  
time for us to head back to Typical. C'mon, all you vermin, follow  
the Piper." He began leading the long roped-together gang of men  
away, the Piper in front.

"Wait, Sheriff!" Fiona called.

The sheriff stopped and looked back at the ogress, restrained  
annoyance on his face. "Yes, Princess?" he asked.

Fiona turned and handed Puppy to a surprised Shrek, then turned back  
and advanced to the prisoners and looked over all the villagers in  
line after Feldgud. "Do you agree with your leader?" she asked.  
"Is that how you see the relationship between your village and our  
family? An endless cycle of fear and enmity and confrontation? Is  
there no way that we can convince you we mean you no harm? That we  
simply wish to live beside you in peace, if not friendship?"

The villagers cast their eyes awkwardly down, most looking ashamed.  
Fiona thought she was making progress, but suddenly felt a tug on  
her arm. "Fiona!" she heard Moyre hiss in her ear as the elder  
ogress took a firmer grip on her arm and led her several yards away  
from the villagers.

"What!" Fiona asked her mother-in-law in a somewhat irritated voice  
as Shrek, Groyl and Donkey wandered in to hear the conversation.

"You're showing weakness!" Moyre whispered. "You should NEVER show  
weakness around humans! It only emboldens them to cause more  
trouble!"

"I'm not showing 'weakness'," Fiona argued. "I'm simply trying to  
establish a dialog here, to come to some meeting of the minds."

"With HUMANS? PEASANTS, nonetheless? HA!" Moyre rasped. "You're  
wasting your time, Fiona, in trying to befriend them. You're only  
giving them less reason to fear you. FEAR is what keeps them in  
line, Fiona! That's the way it's always been. It's tradition!"

"She's right, Fi," Shrek said. "It's in their nature. That's just  
the way it has to be."

Fiona's jaw went slack as she set her hands on her hips and stared  
at her husband. "I can hardly believe I'm hearing that from YOU,  
considering all we've been through!" she said.

Shrek blushed, but then said defensively, "But these are just common  
villagers! There are some things ye just can't change, Fiona.  
You're asking the impossible."

"Well, I'm sorry," Fiona said, "but ever since you came crashing  
through the roof of my room in the tower, I guess I've just gotten  
used to experiencing the impossible!"

Shrek smiled shyly, acknowledging the hit.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Fiona said, now addressing all  
three ogres, "but I think it'd be nice if we could look forward to a  
future where we don't need to worry about dodging bricks and  
pitchforks when we go out for a walk. And I certainly would like  
for our KIDS not to have to worry about it. Isn't that worth taking  
a chance?"

But Moyre sadly shook her head and said, "Fiona, dear, it's a  
wonderful thought, but this is the real world. Ye had the right  
idea earlier, the way ye scared 'em off with your roar. Don't  
suddenly turn into a Pollyanna "

"Moyre," Groyl interrupted her, "maybe we should let Fiona try it  
her way."

"WHAT!" Moyre gasped, surprised at her husband. "But these humans  
are all the same! These people just ain't no good!"

"Darling," Groyl said calmly, "need I remind ye that we wouldn't be  
alive right now but for the intervention of two of those humans?  
Besides, I think Fiona might have a certain insight on human nature  
that we lack."

Moyre sighed. "Very well," she said reluctantly and without  
enthusiasm. "I've said my piece. Fiona, it's your swamp, and your  
kids. Do as ye think fit."

Groyl turned to Shrek. "Son?" the older ogre prompted.

Shrek looked his wife in the eyes. "I say we trust Fiona," he said  
resolutely, then offered her a confident smile. She smiled  
appreciatively back.

"All right!" Donkey said. "You go, girlfriend!"

"Princess?" the sheriff called back impatiently from where he stood  
beside the Piper. "If there isn't anything else "

"Oh, but there is!" Fiona said, approaching the group. "Sheriff,  
except for the two men in front, I want you to let all the other  
prisoners go."

All of the humans stared at her, shocked.

"Did ... did I hear you right?" the sheriff asked, aghast. "You  
want me to let these would-be murderers GO?"

"All except for those two," Fiona said, pointing at the Piper and  
Feldgud. "The rest ... well, they didn't really participate."

"But they were here with their torches and their pitchforks," the  
sheriff said, still incredulous and now perturbed. "And they very  
well may be here again before too long. Leave it to me, and I'll  
see to it they won't be ABLE to be back for a very, very long time "

"But they WOULD be back," Fiona said. "Them or others like them.  
No. I want this cycle to end." She then addressed the villagers,  
who were still staring at her, speechless. "Please!" she said.  
"Maybe we can't be friends, at least not right away. But believe  
me, we just want to live here in peace. We mean you no harm. We  
just want what any decent young couple wants; to be able to live  
together and raise our young in love and happiness and security.  
Those are values we all share, are they not?"

The villagers glanced around at each other and started mumbling.

"Oh, would you listen to THIS!" Feldgud said derisively. "The ogre  
princess is trying to negotiate a truce with her adversaries!" His  
tone then turned even more hostile. "But only to buy time to raise  
her gang of little creatures until they're old enough to raid our  
village! Men, BE men and don't listen to her deceitful lies "

"FELDGUD, SHUT UP!" the sheriff roared. The villager did, looking  
back at the sheriff. Feldgud's face still reflected some anger but  
it was now mixed with considerable fear. The sheriff jerked his red  
bandana from his neck, held it by opposing corners and twirled it  
until it was completely furled, then approached Feldgud and roughly  
tied it around the villager's head and across his open mouth,  
gagging him. "There!" the sheriff said as Feldgud made indistinct  
objections behind the gag. The sheriff then turned back to Fiona,  
fought to regain some composure, and said, "You were saying,  
Princess?"

Fiona smiled. "Thank you, sheriff," she said, then turned to the  
other villagers again. "Gentlemen, you have your freedom," she  
said. "Please use it to better yourselves and serve your community  
and family in more constructive ways than trying to harm those who  
have not and would not harm you." She sighed. "I know you were  
brought up to hate and fear ogres, taught that they were just big,  
stupid, ugly beasts. Believe it or not, so was I perhaps even  
more so because of my situation. More than you want to purge us  
from the outskirts of your village, I sought to purge the hideous  
thing I saw staring back at me from the mirror at night those  
rare times when I could stand to LOOK into a mirror at night. Like  
Feldgud here, I thought that whatever benign, positive traits I had  
were from my human side. But then I met ... my prince," here she  
gestured over to Shrek, who looked back bashfully. "The love of my  
life, who showed me that he that WE are capable of as much  
love and compassion and bravery as the noblest human. Sure, we look  
a little different, have different tastes, and enjoy different  
pastimes. But trust me, I've lived both lives, been close to loved  
ones on either side, and I know that your dreams and aspirations and  
ours are quite compatible. In those important areas that really  
matter, like love and concern for family and friends and the desire  
for a stable, happy home, we share far more than you might think  
now. So I DO challenge you TO think, and consider possibilities  
beyond the narrow confines of those stereotypes and fairytales  
you've been brought up with. So relish your freedom! Go home, kiss  
your wives, hug your children, live in peace, and know that where we  
live, we only wish the opportunity to do the same. Thank you."

The villagers stared at Fiona, wide-eyed and speechless. Feldgud  
made excited, incomprehensive noises behind his gag that nobody was  
paying attention to. The Piper just smiled sardonically and shook  
his head.

Fiona nodded to the sheriff. The lawman sighed, then reluctantly  
began releasing the villagers until only Feldgud and the Piper were  
left bound. As Fiona watched, cross-armed, most of the villagers  
rubbed their newly freed wrists, cast their eyes away, and began  
wandering awkwardly toward the their village.

All but one. A teenager about five feet tall with blond hair  
tentatively approached her. The ogress watched, cocking an  
inquisitive eyebrow as he came within four feet, took his hat off,  
held it awkwardly in his hands, and looked up at her.

"M-Ma'am," he said timidly. "May I ask you a question?"

Fiona looked him over. He seemed meek enough, and had certainly not  
been near the front of the pack when they were wielding their  
weapons. She smiled down at him. "Certainly," she said, trying to  
sound friendly. "What is your name, son?"

"Francis, ma'am," he replied.

"And you may call me Fiona. Go ahead and ask your question,  
Francis."

"Ma'am," Francis began, too nervous to drop the formality, "is it  
really true, then? You really were a beautiful royal princess that  
was rescued from a tower by an ogre and chose to be one yourself?"

"Well, that's a pretty condensed version of it," Fiona said,  
chuckling, "but you've got the gist right." Her smile turned wry as  
she considered the way she must currently look to him; an ugly  
ogress with soiled rough homemade woodland clothes, disheveled and  
tiara-less hair, and dirty face. "Although I imagine that I don't  
look very 'beautiful' or 'royal' to your eyes just now," she added.

The teenager's expression turned to one of surprise. "Oh, but I  
disagree!" he said. "It's plain to anyone WITH eyes! And I I  
thank you for my freedom. I am truly sorry for my part in all this.  
I beg your forgiveness ..." He then sank to one knee, then bowed  
his head so low that Fiona found herself looking down on the back of  
his neck as he concluded, "... Your Highness."

Fiona stared down at him, speechless. The other freed villagers had  
quietly taken note of the scene, including those who had started  
drifting away toward their village. Now they all slowly and timidly  
meandered toward the two, and one by one they all took off their  
hats, sank to one knee, bowed to Fiona, and said, "Your Highness."  
The ogress suddenly found herself looking down upon the bowed heads  
of nearly a dozen human villagers, all paying her tribute. She  
again felt tears begin to well in her eyes. She looked over at the  
sheriff. He looked back at her with a wry smile of his own and  
shook his head in bemusement. Then he also sank to one knee and  
bent forward in a bow. Bo, standing beside him, then followed his  
lead and did the same.

Fiona started to weep.

A few hours later Fiona was dressed in her blue one-piece bathing  
suit and making her way across the swamp. In her hands she carried  
a tray upon which sat four mugs with bent straws and little paper  
umbrellas sticking out of them. Soon she came to her destination:  
Her and Shrek's favorite mudhole. Two torches set to either side of  
the miniature bog aided the illumination provided by the full moon  
that now set high in the sky. Various night creatures chirped and  
croaked and whistled around them, but none of the fairy folk that  
sometimes could be seen flitting about the swamp visited this  
particular spot; they had learned to avoid it lest they be  
involuntarily conscripted to provide additional, more colorful  
illumination.

Shrek and his parents were already in the hole, the mud coming mid-  
way up the male ogres' bare, hairy chests, and up to a few inches  
below the collarbone on Moyre. All three had their eyes closed and  
their faces bore little smiles of relaxed contentment. Fiona hated  
to disturb them, but these particular drinks would not keep.

"Hello everybody!" she said cheerfully. "I brought us a little  
something."

The other three ogres all opened their eyes, smiled and greeted her  
warmly.

"I was wondering what was keeping ye, Sweetheart," Shrek said,  
glancing at the tray. "I thought ye said you'd be right behind us."

"Well, since this is such a special day, I thought I'd make a  
special drink," she said. "It's one of MY favorites, anyway," she  
added shyly.

Fiona then began handing out the mugs, first to Moyre, then Groyl,  
then Shrek. She then took the last for herself, sat the tray aside  
and being careful not to spill her drink cautiously slid into  
the mudhole beside Shrek. She sighed in contentment as she felt the  
cool, brown, oozy, semi-liquid substance enveloping her. Groping  
about in the muck with her free hand she found the shelf where Shrek  
was sitting and sat beside him, the mud now lapping near the top of  
her chest.

"THAT feels great!" she said, then leaned against Shrek's arm,  
relaxed, and sighed. A moment later several bubbles erupted in the  
mud around her. "THAT feels even BETTER!" she commented, and smiled  
slyly up at Shrek. He laughed and then draped a mud-covered arm  
around his wife and pulled her closer to him.

Moyre smiled at the happy couple, then looked at the contents of her  
mug. Her expression twisted into one of perplexity. "Fiona," she  
said, "is this ... crushed white ice?"

"Yes, partially," Fiona replied. "Dragon was good enough to  
retrieve some from a mountaintop for me before she and Donkey had to  
take off with their kids. It's mixed with a few other ingredients  
for flavor. It's called a 'Pina Colada'. It usually has a shot of  
rum in it for kick, but considering the occasion I substituted  
Ograrian Ale. I hope you like it."

"It looks ... different," Moyre observed, sniffing it. Then she  
looked at Fiona, grinned, and said, "But sometimes, things that are  
different can prove t'be of surprisingly high quality." Fiona  
grinned back.

Moyre lifted her mug in a gesture that took in the other three  
ogres. "A toast!" she proclaimed. "To today's heroes!" The other  
three ogres tipped their mugs to her and they all took long sips  
through their straws.

"Mmmm," Groyl said, smacking his lips. "Not bad, Fiona."

"No, not bad at all," Moyre agreed. But then she carefully took out  
the miniature paper umbrella, examined it for a moment, then looked  
over at Fiona and asked teasingly, "Were ye expecting rain tonight,  
dear? For if so, I fear these things won't quite cut it."

Fiona giggled. "No," she said, "they're just something that gets  
served with drinks like this. They're not of any practical use."

"Ah!" Moyre said. "So they're like so many other types of ...  
tradition."

"You mean like the one that says ogres take care of their own  
injuries?" Fiona asked half-teasingly, and gestured toward Moyre's  
left arm, most of it submerged in the mud now, but the top of the  
wrappings still visible. "I still say you should have let us have  
Dragon fly you to Far Far Away and had my father's doctors have a  
look at that "

"Oh, Fiona, please!" Moyre said dismissively. "How knowledgeable  
could your father's doctors be about ogres, anyway? I doubt they  
even know we have fifteen more bones than humans!"

"I'm sure they do!" Fiona disagreed. "They keep up on all the  
latest publications of 'Grimm's Anatomy'. Besides, they had to be  
prepared in case anything ever happened to me at night "

"It's all right, Fiona!" Groyl interrupted. "I understand your  
concern, but I examined Moyre and it really wasn't broken, just a  
bad sprain."

"Besides," Moyre said, "that wasn't the ... impractical tradition I  
was alluding to. I was talking more along the lines of the ogre  
marriage rules."

"Oh. THAT," Fiona said, her demeanor sagging. "Oh, well. If  
Shrek can handle my ... nonconformities as his wife, and you can  
tolerate me as a daughter-in-law, then we'll see if we can't raise  
our children in proper ogre manner even without our union having an  
authentic ogre blessing."

"But what if it could?" Moyre asked.

The other three ogres all jerked their heads toward the older  
ogress, confused looks on their faces. "What do you mean?" Fiona  
asked anxiously.

"What if ye could have a proper ogre marriage ceremony and have your  
union recognized by the ogre community? Would ye be interested?"

"Of COURSE!" Fiona said, suddenly so attentive that even her ears  
stood at unusually high angles. "But I thought you said "

"That both principals plus both their parents had to be ogres,"  
Groyl finished for her, looking at his wife in confusion. "Aye,  
that's correct. What's going through your mind, Moyre?"

"Well, I've been thinking," Moyre began, then chuckled. "Yes, I  
know that's hard to believe from me. But I wanted to think of some  
way I could pay Fiona back a little for what I put her through today  
at the swamp, and for saving my life at that pit. And I've come up  
with an idea. But a great deal of it depends on her parents."

"What about my parents?" Fiona asked, her brow knotting in  
confusion.

"You're still on good terms with then, I take it?"

"Of course! Better than ever, actually. In fact, they feel rather  
guilty over the way they treated me as I was growing up "

"Good!"

"Excuse me?" Fiona asked, somewhat perturbed at Moyre's reaction.

"So that means ... like me ... they probably feel they owe ye ... a  
favor," Moyre said. Her voice then took on a mysteriously  
conspiratorial tone as she added, "Perhaps even a particularly BIG  
favor. Right?"

Fiona felt curiosity and an odd exhilaration begin rising in her.  
She leaned as far toward her mother-in-law as the ledge she sat on  
would allow. "What do you have in mind?" the princess asked.

It was sometime in the afternoon the next day. A witch, dressed in  
the dark robe and pointed hat that her customers expected her to  
wear, stood by a cauldron which sat on a fire. She held a long  
stick in her hands with which she stirred her brew, every so often  
having to pause so as to push the little wire-rimmed glasses she  
wore back into place, as they continually wished to slip down her  
long nose.

Near where the witch stirred her concoction sat a wooden stand with  
several shelves, upon which sat a variety of potions and spells, all  
bottled or packaged very neatly and labeled with its name and a  
price tag. Next to this stand sat several wooden baskets with a  
variety of fruits and vegetables, all the baskets also bearing  
labels telling what was in each and the price per dozen. Above all  
this was a larger sign, set across two poles, which read, 'Hazel's  
Potion and Fruit Stand'. This all sat just off the side of a dirt  
road that ran through the forest. A couple of dwarves were  
currently looking over the various vegetables while their companion,  
a young raven-haired woman, seemed to be considering which variety  
of apples to buy.

Overall, however, it had been a slow day. And so the witch looked  
up in anticipation when she heard carriage wheels approaching from  
somewhere down the road. Her anticipation turned into surprised  
curiosity when the vehicle appeared. The carriage seemed to be made  
of a giant hollow onion, and driving the two white horses that  
pulled it was a large male ogre who bore a resemblance to someone  
she had seen before. The carriage pulled off the side of the road  
and stopped by her stand. Then a door opened and three other ogres  
stepped out, one female about the same age as the driver and two  
older ogres, one male and one female. The witch recognized the  
older couple, and in fact it was the male who the driver reminded  
her of. The witch stopped stirring and leaned on her stick. She  
pushed her glasses into place again as the four ogres approached  
her. When she did so, she was quite happy to see the older ogress  
carrying a small jar.

"Hazel!" the older ogres said, smiling as she and her mate pulled  
ahead of the younger two as they approached her. "I was hoping  
you'd still be here!"

"Moyre!" Hazel responded in kind. "It's been quite some time!"  
Then, indicating Moyre's bandaged left arm that rested in a sling  
around her neck, "What happened to YOU?"

"Oh, it's a long story," Moyre said as she and her companion came to  
a halt a couple of feet before the cauldron. "You remember my  
husband, Groyl?"

"Certainly," Hazel said, and nodded to the older ogre. "Good  
afternoon, Groyl."

"Madam Hazel," he responded, nodding back.

Moyre looked into and sniffed at the cauldron. "Ah, I see you're  
cooking bats again," she observed.

"Since early this morning!" Hazel said. "They're just about done if  
you'd care to purchase some."

Moyre squinted as she sniffed some more. "But the broth's  
different," she noted. "Don't you normally use a combination of  
turpentine and turtle juice?"

"Usually," Hazel agreed. "But I'm trying something new. This is an  
herbal mixture I invented well, herbs and fourteen percent  
alcohol. The bats come out almost as tasty, but they're much lower  
in fat and even have fewer carbohydrates! I've even found the broth  
itself is an astringent, with medicinal uses for treating skin  
irritations, itching, minor cuts, and hemorrhoids! I'll probably  
end up marketing it myself, I just haven't thought of a name for it  
yet. But enough about me!" Here Hazel gestured toward the jar in  
Moyre's hand. "Is that what I THINK it is?" she asked.

"Indeed!" Moyre said. "Rare ogre lice, freshly captured during our  
last delousing before we went to visit our son and his new bride."

"Splendid!" crowed the witch, then began to reach for the jar. "I  
take it you'll be expecting the regular price "

"Not quite," Moyre said, pulling the jar away. "This will be part  
of a ... very special transaction."

Hazel's smile faded and her brow knit in sudden suspicion. "What do  
you mean?"

Moyre sighed. "First," she said, "let me introduce you to my son  
and his new bride." She gestured behind her to where the younger  
ogres stood patiently, arm-in-arm. "Madam Hazel," Moyre said, "I'd  
like to introduce you to our son, ShreklechI mean, SHREK, and his  
wife, Fiona."

The two younger ogres bowed slightly, uncomfortable smiles on their  
faces, the female's expression also containing a hint of hopeful  
anticipation. "Madam Hazel," they both said politely.

Hazel was nodding back when a memory rose in her mind. "Hey, wait a  
minute!" she said. "Shrek ... Fiona ... didn't I read something  
about you two ..." She snapped her fingers. "Of COURSE! That ball  
at Far Far Away! You're that princess!"

"Oh," Fiona said meekly, blushing. "You heard about that."

"Darling, when something major happens at Far Far Away, the whole  
flat WORLD hears about it!" Hazel said. "You couldn't get a lot  
more major than THAT! It was in all the papers, scrolls, magic  
mirrors, crystal balls, you name it! And the troubadours had a  
field day!" Shrek and Fiona looked at each other awkwardly and  
sighed.

"In that case," Moyre said to Hazel, "you're aware of Fiona's  
parental background, and the ogre marriage problem."

"Ogre marriage problem?" Hazel repeated, confused for a moment.  
Then realization dawned on her face. "Oh!" she said. And then, a  
moment later when she fully realized all the implications, "Ooooh."

"Exactly," Moyre agreed.

Fiona looked down, embarrassed. Shrek put a comforting arm around  
her and said, "As ye can see, it's really, REALLY bothering Fiona.  
My mom thought maybe ye could help us find a way around this stupid  
ogre marriage ... tradition." He infused the word 'tradition' with  
more than mild distaste.

"Now, dear," Hazel said, "there's a basis behind ALL traditions.  
Old fogies don't just sit around making them up for no reason at  
all! In the case of the restrictions on ogre marriages having to be  
between ogres with ogre parents ... well, that's a good deal the  
fault of magic users such as myself, I'm afraid. You see, whenever  
some particularly heinous lout of a human being deserved to be  
punished, some magic user would usually turn him or her into a  
different species. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction. And I'm  
sorry to say that often the species of choice would turn out to be  
an ogre, as humans considered them such vile creatures that to  
actually be turned into one would be one of the worst things  
imaginable. So you ended up with a lot of vile and heinous ogres  
running around who weren't really ogres and, frankly, started giving  
the species an even worse name. Plus such miscreants never cared  
for proper ogre traditions anyway, and well you might say things  
got ugly, so to speak. So eventually the restriction got put in  
place that, in defense of the species, they only wished to propagate  
unions between 'real' ogres."

Fiona sniffled, and Shrek pulled her closer.

"But Fiona's different!" Moyre said. "She wasn't turned into an  
ogre for some indiscretion! She's been at least part ogress since  
she can remember! It's not HER fault her parents aren't ogres. And  
she's shown all the proper behavior and attributes and respect for  
things ograrian that ANY ogress could. Now she simply wants to be  
allowed to go through a proper ogre marriage ceremony "

"WHOA!" Hazel interrupted. "Moyre, I'm not disagreeing with you.  
I'm simply filling you in on the history of why things are they way  
they are. Your argument's not with me, it's with the officials that  
approve or disapprove of any particular wedding. It's not like  
there's anything I can do to help you here."

"Oh, but there is!" Moyre said. Then she took a deep breath and  
continued, "I has to do with a certain potion ..."

"Well," Hazel said, gesturing to the wooden stands, "I don't know  
what potion might help your daughter-in-law's situation, but feel  
free to look over my stock "

"No," Moyre said, "this would be a ... special order."

Hazel frowned, suspicious. "I don't know ..." she said.

Moyre then held out the jar. "What would you say if we paid with  
not just this jar, but, say, jars from the next five delousings?"

Hazel licked her lips. Ogre lice was a potent ingredient in many of  
her spells and recipes. "What do you have in mind?" the witch  
asked.

A couple of days later day King Harold was sitting on his throne in  
the royal palace at Far Far Away. Suddenly the captain of the  
guards came rushing into the room, his polished armor clattering.  
The man brought himself to an abrupt halt in front of Harold's  
throne and snapped to attention.

"Sire!" the man reported, his voice anxious but in control. "We are  
under attack!"

"WHAT!" Harold said, lifting himself erect by all four webbed feet,  
his mottled green skin flushing. "From where?"

"From the air, Sire. We're being circled by a large red dragon!"

"Red dragon!" Harold repeated, and something within him leapt.  
True, such a beast could be attacking, but it could also mean  
"Captain!" Harold said. "Quick! Take me up to the battlements!"

"Yes, Sire!" the captain said, then knelt and held out his two  
hands, pressed side-by-side, palms upward. Harold leaped from his  
throne onto the captain's hands. The captain then quickly got to  
his feet and began hurrying back to the stairwell that would take  
them up to the battlements on the roof.

The captain went as fast as he could while making sure he protected  
his amphibian monarch, but Harold still found the trip  
excruciatingly slow. "Hurry, man, hurry!" he goaded. "Hop to it!"

The two finally exited onto the castle roof, and Harold saw several  
of his soldiers loading a new type of catapult that had recently  
been added to the castle's defenses. The weapons aimed upwards at  
an angle, and were loaded with multiple flaming projectiles that  
spread across the sky when fired. Harold knew the captain liked to  
be prepared for anything, hence the large barrels of milk and  
accompanying boilers which had proved so useful when the castle had  
suffered that extremely unlikely attack by a giant gingerbread man.  
Tragically, it had turned out that the great pastry 'Mongo', as  
he had been named was on the right side in the conflict that  
night. But it was another oversized visitor who arrived hours later  
a large red dragon that had taken the defenders by surprise.  
It had easily made its way to the courtyard itself, and it had  
embarrassed the captain that they had no defense ready to stop it.  
Fortunately, that dragon had also been on the right side, so there  
was no harm done, and another tragic misunderstanding avoided.  
However, the captain had since devised the anti-air weapons in the  
event of any visits by other such beasts that were not so amicably  
inclined.

"Captain," Harold said sternly, "you KNOW this may be OUR dragon,  
don't you?"

"Indeed Sire," he confirmed as they came to the edge of a rampart.  
"But it hasn't given us the agreed-upon signal!" The captain turned  
toward one of the men readying one of the weapons. "Lieutenant,  
where is it now?" he demanded.

"It disappeared behind a cloud, sir," the soldier said. "We fired  
at it twice while it was circling, but it avoided both look, sir,  
there it is!"

The captain and king followed the man's gaze and saw a red dragon  
exiting a cloudbank. It was several hundred yards away, but Harold  
could swear he saw someone riding on its back toward the base of its  
neck. Suddenly the dragon started releasing a trail of smoke  
through its nostrils as it flew a deliberate pattern. A moment  
later everyone could make out a large 'S' that the smoke trail had  
left in the sky.

"Unload your weapons!" the king shouted. "That's OUR dragon!"

The soldiers unloaded and uncocked their weapons as the dragon flew  
lazily toward the castle. As it came closer, Harold could see he  
was correct and it DID have a rider. In fact, it would have been  
hard to miss the rider, since it was an ogre. The king beamed when  
he was able to make out exactly who that ogre was.

The dragon landed on the castle roof and Harold's daughter smiled  
down at her father from her perch atop the beast's neck. She was  
wearing the same dark green dress she had been wearing that night at  
the ball well, that she had been wearing after she had reassumed  
ogress form. "Hi, Dad!" she called.

"Fiona! Sweetheart!" Harold smiled back. But then his expression  
turned stern. "Why the devil didn't you signal earlier? You might  
have been killed!"

"I wanted to," Fiona said, then cast a stern glare of her own at the  
dragon, who was looking back at her. "But Dragon wanted to play."

The dragon grinned naughtily and shrugged. Fiona and her father  
both shook their heads, then Fiona slid off the dragon's back and  
landed adroitly a few feet in front of the captain and her father.  
She held her own hands out, pressed together with open palms upward.  
Harold leapt from his perch on the captain's hands onto Fiona's  
broader hand span. She lifted him up and they shared a brief kiss,  
then she held him out at eye level to her so they could converse on  
an equal plane.

"Fiona, dear, what brings you to Far Far Away?" Harold asked. "And  
where is Shrek? Is ... everything all right between you? You two  
didn't have another spat?"

"Oh, no, everything's going great!" she said, smiling. Then her  
smile faded and she continued. "Well, except for one thing. In  
fact, it's what I'm here for. There's something I need to talk with  
you and mom about. And then I'm afraid I need to ask you two for a  
favor. A BIG favor."

Harold tilted his head inquiringly. "What is it, dear? What do you  
have in mind?" the king asked.


	13. Layer 12: Prenuptial Agreements

Layer 12: Prenuptial Agreements

"What'd you say they call this place again?" Donkey asked.

Shrek, dressed in pants and pullover shirt made of drab, olive-green  
burlap, continued his steady stride just ahead of Donkey but sighed  
in exasperation and ran a hand across the top of his bald head.  
"For the umpteenth time," he moaned, "it's called 'The Great Abysmal  
Bog'."

"Well, they got the 'abysmal' part right," Donkey said, looking  
about at the dark green canopy of overgrown vegetation that  
surrounded the little band of travelers as they made their way along  
a narrow path through the lush swamp. "And the 'bog' part REALLY  
fits," he added, looking down at the soft, squishy moisture-laden  
soil upon which his soggy feet tread. "But I don't think it's such  
a 'great' place to be! Maybe it's great for you OGRES, but us  
DONKEYS would prefer a nice, dry sylvan glen!"

"Donkey," Shrek explained, "it's called 'great' because it covers  
such a large expanse of land."

"Well ... you got THAT right, TOO!" Donkey said. "It seems we've  
been walking FOREVER!"

Shrek sighed again. "Just a little while longer," he said, "and  
we'll come to that nice big clearing where we're supposed to  
rendezvous with Dragon and Fiona and her parents. Ye can relax for  
a bit when we get there."

"Si, amigo!" an orange tabby cat said with a Spanish-accented voice  
from his perch on Shrek's left shoulder. "I'm sure we'll be there  
in no time!" The feline was dressed in dark leather boots, a  
yellow-plumed dark cavalier hat with the brim pinned up on the left  
side, and small dark cape. Across his waist he wore a belt to which  
was attached a miniature scabbard that housed a short but sharp  
rapier.

"Oh, sure, YOU'RE one to talk, Puss!" Donkey said. "You get an  
O-ticket ride all the way while the REST of us get ta walk!" Here  
Donkey made a gesture that took in the other two members of the  
party, Shrek's parents, who were dressed in their normal clothes and  
walking quietly a few paces ahead of their son.

"It's my boots, Donkey," Puss said, gesturing to his footwear.  
"They're too likely to get stuck in the mud!"

"Yeah, right," Donkey responded, then spoke to Shrek -- or rather,  
to the back of his head. "I still don't know why we had to bring  
Puss an' why he couldn't have just stayed back at your swamp with  
the rest'a the Fairytale Gang an' waited for us ta get back for the  
wecomin' home party. I mean, ASIDE from him askin' ya if could come  
while takin' off his hat an' starin' up at ya with that pathetic  
big-eyes thing he does."

"You brought me along for my valuable services!" Puss said, drawing  
and brandishing his sword with aplomb. "Should we stumble into  
danger, I may be of assistance!"

"Look, Puss," Donkey said, "we've got three ogres here. In a while  
we'll have another ogre and a dragon. If we DO run into any  
problems, then with all that goin' for us I don't think that your  
little shish kebob skewer's gonna make THAT big a difference."

"Ah, it's not the size of your rapier that matters, my friend," Puss  
said, thrusting his weapon back into its scabbard, "but how you use  
it!"

Donkey rolled his eyes, then said, "Shrek, tell me again why is it  
we couldn't ALL have ridden in a carriage or somethin'?"

"Once again, Donkey, because the path's too narrow in too many  
places, and even if it wasn't, the wheels might've gotten stuck in  
the mud," Shrek explained, trying to be patient.

"Yeah, right, stuck in the mud," Donkey mumbled to himself. Then he  
said aloud, "Speakin' of sticks in the mud, why is it you couldn't  
have arranged for an ogre ceremony in a little more temperate  
climate? I mean, it's been over two weeks since Fiona got back with  
the go-ahead from her parents."

"Because all ogres in this country travel to this swamp t'be  
married," Shrek replied. "It's --"

"I know, I know," Donkey groused. "'Tradition'. Like those jammies  
you're wearin' --"

"It's a wedding tunic," Shrek said, his temper and patience  
shortening.

"Yeah, whatever. Y'know, it's also 'tradition' for salmon to swim  
upstream ta spawn. But I used ta think that ogres had more sense  
than fish."

"Donkey ..." Shrek grumbled, the tone in his voice now one of  
warning.

"Okay, I'm sorry, man," Donkey apologized. "It's just that I'm so  
tired and BORED."

Puss turned to Shrek. "Boss, is he always this much trouble on long  
trips?" the feline inquired.

"You have no idea," Shrek replied.

Donkey tilted his head and tried looking passed the three ogres  
marching in front of him to see if the clearing that Shrek had  
spoken of might be appearing soon. "Are we there yet?" Donkey  
asked.

---------------------------------------------------

Dragon flew high in the afternoon air. Strapped to her back was the  
stripped-out passenger compartment of a small carriage, with a seat  
wide enough for an ogress, a human female, and a frog to sit side-  
by-side in comfortably.

Fiona sat to the seat furthest to the left. Her mother, the elegant  
and lovely Queen Lillian, sat furthest to the right. King Harold  
sat between them.

Harold stared up at his daughter. He was still somewhat in shock at  
her appearance. Her clothes consisted of a drab olive-green burlap  
dress, something that he might expect to find on the poorest  
peasants in the kingdom -- and if he HAD found such he would have  
gladly given the poor peasants money to buy new clothes and order  
the old ones burned. At first Harold had thought that the dress  
smelled as well -- but then he realized it was not the dress itself,  
but who was in it. Harold knew that ogres had a distinctive ... air  
about them in the best of circumstances. But judging from the aroma  
that now emanated from his daughter, he guessed that she had not  
taken a bath since she had last visited them over two weeks before.  
Not one using soap, anyway. Maybe not even using WATER, Harold  
thought with a shudder as he recalled ogres' fondness of mudholes.

Fiona was wearing lipstick, but it was blue. The only other makeup  
she wore was on her nose; it was completely covered in what looked  
like black greasepaint. But the most distressing thing was her  
hair. It was cut shorter than normal, and completely uncombed. It  
was, frankly, a disordered mess, made all the worse because her  
ponytail was gone, lopped completely off.

Fiona had been sitting with her eyes closed and her head tilted  
back, enjoying the breeze that fluttered through her unruly locks as  
they flew. Now she opened her eyes and smiled down at her father.  
But her smile vanished when she saw the distress on his face.  
"What's wrong, Dad?" she asked.

"It's all right, dear," Lillian answered for him. "Your father's  
not used to flying. He's probably just feeling a little green."

Both Fiona and Harold cast critical glances at her. "Oh!" Lillian  
said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean --"

"No, no, it's all right, darling," Harold said, then turned to  
Fiona. "Fiona, I'm sorry, it's just that ... well, I'm just not  
used to seeing you ... like this."

Fiona smiled. "It's okay, Dad," she said. "This is all just for  
the marriage ceremony. After today I plan to grow my hair back and  
wear it more ... conventionally. And the dress and makeup's just  
for the ceremony, too. It's ... tradition ... from what I'm told."

"Well, THAT'S a relief, anyway," Harold said. "You always had such  
beautiful hair."

"Thanks," Fiona said, and smiled again. She then looked straight  
ahead and sighed. "Just a few more hours," she said, "and it'll all  
be over. We'll be properly married, and everything will be great!"

"Fiona, dearest," Harold said, "I thought you already WERE properly  
married."

"We were! I mean, we are!" she said, looking back at him again.  
"But, like I told you, we have to go through this ceremony to be  
fully accepted by other ogres."

A rueful smile appeared on Harold's face, and he shook his head  
slightly.

"What is it, Dad?" Fiona asked, concerned.

"Oh, it's really nothing dear. Except that ..." he sighed again.  
"It just sounds odd to hear you refer to yourself and 'OTHER ogres'  
as if ... how can I put this ... as if ..."

"As if I WERE one?" Fiona asked. "Well, Dad, I AM an ogre. And  
it's not just physical. It's inside, too. It always has been. I  
can't deny it anymore. This IS me." Now it was Fiona who smiled  
ruefully as she looked away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know my  
appearance as an ogress disgusts you, even when I'm dressed and  
groomed 'normally'."

"Oh, Fiona, please!" Harold said. "You're my daughter! I love you!  
You could never 'disgust' me!"

"That's NOT the signal I was getting growing up," she observed.

Harold closed his eyes and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I  
know," he admitted, opening his eyes and peering at her. "And I'm  
sorry. I'm so sorry. It's just that ... dear, I really couldn't  
see how you COULD be happy ... how ANYONE could be happy as an ... I  
mean, in your nocturnal form. But that was me, dear. You see, I  
was quite ... paranoid, I guess you could say ... about my own ...  
secret. I truly wanted to be human in every way, and when I saw you  
in non-human form it ... I suppose it reminded me of my own  
inhumanity, and what I saw as a gross failing. I fear my treatment  
of your 'other side' was in good deal a projection of how I felt  
about my own secret, non-human self. I ... I wish I could make you  
understand."

Fiona looked away pensively, and Harold thought he saw an  
unconscious trace of bitterness creep into her features. When she  
spoke her voice was disconcertingly distant and void of emotion.  
"Dad, I understand. Self-loathing of my secret, non-human self,  
feelings of inadequacy, and fear of being found out ... oh yes, I  
understand very well."

Harold looked at his daughter with remorse. "Then I DID make you  
understand," he said, "but not in a way I intended. That was very  
wrong of me. But believe me, what I did ... striking that deal with  
Fairy Godmother and locking you in that tower ... I really felt was  
best for you. If it would leave you completely and beautifully  
human, I thought that would surely be the best way to ensure your  
happiness. Plus, to be married to such a handsome prince ... I  
mean, there are dozens of princesses who would die for a shot at  
such a prize. All you had to do was literally sit back and wait for  
him to come to you."

"Even if that 'prize' had a hidden 'monster' of his own?" Fiona  
asked. "Not a physical 'failing' such as we thought we had, but a  
dark stain in his soul?"

Harold paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and tried to  
explain. "At the time I made the deal with Godmother, Charming  
looked to be growing up into a handsome, strong, brave, skilled, and  
confident fellow. All qualities that anyone could admire. All  
qualities that made him an ideal prince and eventual king. All  
qualities worthy of the husband of my daughter. All qualities ...  
that I lacked, even as a human. Darling, I wanted BETTER for you."

Harold sighed, then continued. "I hoped that by the time he rescued  
you from that tower, all those positive qualities would have helped  
him overcome his mother's influence, and he would have become his  
own man. I mean, how could a man with such outstanding physical  
attributes turn out to be anything BUT good? Even when I learned  
better, even after you showed up at the castle with Shrek, I still  
thought Charming, even with his faults, would make for a better life  
for you than marriage to an OGRE. But then again, by that time I  
was completely in Godmother's thrall, and so maybe a good deal of my  
'reasoning' was actually my subconscious rationalizing the trading  
of your future for my own self-preservation. I honestly don't know.  
But if so, then that ... that made me a greater villain than  
Charming OR Godmother could ever be."

Harold ashamedly looked down and away from his daughter. Fiona  
beheld him for a while, her face melting into sympathy. Then she  
reached over and gently laid a large index finger on his small  
webbed hand. "But you triumphed over that, Dad," she said. "When  
the chips were down, you found the courage to stand up to her. In  
refusing to give me the potion you saved me from a horrible fate,  
and in sacrificing yourself when Godmother tried to kill Shrek, you  
saved not only his life, and not only my happiness, but your entire  
kingdom. You proved to be a braver and nobler hero than ANY Prince  
Charming could ever be. No daughter could feel more pride for her  
father than I feel for you. Ogress or human, I am Princess Fiona,  
daughter of His Royal Majesty King Harold of Far Far Away ... and it  
is a title I bear with honor."

Harold looked back up at his daughter. The two smiled warmly at  
each other, and the lower part of Harold's mouth puffed out proudly  
as he croaked.

Lillian also smiled as she watched the two. She had been hoping  
they would eventually be able to discuss these issues openly.  
Everyone had been politely avoiding them since the ball, preferring  
instead to make a fresh start. Now that her husband and daughter  
had managed a rapprochement on the topics, she felt as if a weight  
were lifting. But it was a weight her husband had not bourn by  
himself. "Fiona, dear," the queen said, "you know your father was  
not alone in the decision to send you to the tower. Although I  
didn't know all the details on his dealings with the Fairy Godmother  
--" Lillian had to fight to keep herself from casting a reproachful  
glance at her husband "-- I did agree to the tower arrangement. So  
I, too, owe you an apology. But you see, when you were just a baby  
and I saw the dreaded curse you suffered --"

"Mom," Fiona interrupted, wincing slightly, "could we please not  
call it a 'curse' anymore?"

"Oh. Ah, very well, dear. Uh, when I saw the frightful enchantment  
that --"

"Mom," the princess interrupted her again, "can we just call it an  
'enchantment' and drop the adjectives?"

Lillian sighed. "I'm sorry, Fiona," she said, "but I suppose that's  
part of the problem. You see, growing up as a princess, I, too, was  
taught that beauty was of paramount importance. I fear that society  
tends to instill this overemphasis on superficial appearance in ALL  
young girls, royal or not, to the point where the pursuit of this  
idealized goal of physical perfection sometimes overwhelms all the  
other factors in evaluating the worth of such girls. That mindset  
... I suppose THAT is the real curse, Fiona, and it has been cast  
upon the entire human female gender. It was that mindset that told  
me you couldn't be happy unless you were fully and totally that  
beautiful princess we saw during the day, and blinded me to the  
possibility that the ogress you turned into at night or the  
behaviors you exhibited that didn't conform to that human ideal were  
anything but unwanted aberrations. So I, too, agreed to the tower  
proposal. Again, Fiona ... I'm sorry. But, like your father, I  
really felt it was for your own good."

Fiona smiled at her mother. "It's okay, Mom," she said. "After  
all, it turned out you and Dad were right. It really WAS for my own  
good. Because without the tower, I would never have met Shrek. And  
without Shrek, I would never have found the courage to accept  
myself."

Harold spoke then. "And without the inspiration of the courage, the  
love, and the dedication I saw in you and Shrek," he said, "I would  
never have found the fortitude to stand up to the Fairy Godmother.  
I'd still be her pathetic, secret toady -- so to speak."

"So in the end," Fiona said, "the tower deal worked out well for  
everybody ... except for Prince Charming and the Fairy Godmother,  
who instituted it in the first place!"

The three of them laughed. Dragon looked back for a moment,  
grinned, then turned back and continued concentrating on her flight.

"Fiona, dear," Lillian said, her laughter fading and her tone  
turning serious, "there's something that's bothering me. After that  
night at the ball, when you chose not to kiss Shrek -- thus allowing  
him to regain his true form while showing your willingness to  
embrace your own ogress state, all despite what human society thinks  
-- well, first of all, let me say that I was so very proud of you  
then."

"Thanks, Mom," Fiona said sincerely, but then cocked an eyebrow in  
suspicion and waited for the 'but'.

"But dear," Lillian continued, "if you don't mind my saying so,  
since then it appears you've gone rather far in the opposite  
direction from when you despised your ogre self. You seem to have  
become so obsessed with proving you're a 'real' ogress you've even  
agreed to this ... this deceptive scheme ..."

"Your mother's quite right, dear," Harold added. "You once told me  
with justifiable pride that Shrek loves you for who you are. Maybe  
you should do the same. Love yourself for who you are. If you must  
pursue authenticity, then seek out your authentic SELF. Don't worry  
about how you compare to some idealized image of a human princess OR  
an ogress. Any ogres that have a problem with that ... well, in my  
opinion they deserve the same contempt as any close-minded humans  
... OR frogs."

One corner of Fiona's lip curled in a small sardonic grin. "Now  
you're starting to sound like Shrek and Donkey," she observed.

"Am I?" Harold asked. "Well, usually I'd take umbrage to having my  
words compared to those of a jackass, but in this case I believe he  
had a point."

"I know, Dad," Fiona conceded. "And actually I agree, in principle.  
It's just that ... Dad, when I'm with Shrek, and we do things  
together and share things that are distained by humans but so  
natural to him, I find myself enjoying them as well. And it's not  
just to please him. It's like a part of me has been set free. Many  
of my feelings, my desires, my tastes ... things I've learned are  
natural for ogres but that I felt I had to suppress as a human ...  
with Shrek I'm able to celebrate them!"

Fiona paused briefly, then continued. "After a while of living with  
Shrek and growing increasingly comfortable, I thought I'd finally  
found a place ... and a lifestyle ... where I belonged. Where I  
could be myself and find acceptance ... not just by Shrek, who  
accepts me in any case, but by his peers as well. Then I found out  
that I'd thought wrong, and that I -- no, worse, WE -- couldn't be  
accepted, couldn't be recognized by ... I'm afraid I have to say it  
... others of our kind. But then Moyre thought of a way we might be  
able to circumvent the institutionalized bigotry of their wedding  
ceremony, and have them formalize our marriage despite my  
background. True, we won't be able to do everything on the up-and-up,  
but with only a little innocent withholding of certain facts ..."

Fiona noticed the anxiety appearing in her parents' faces as she  
spoke of Moyre's plan, and started to feel a bit annoyed despite  
herself. "Look," she said, "if you two would rather not help out  
with this --"

"Oh, Fiona, it's not that!" Lillian said. "We'll help you in any  
way we can. As we told you before, if you really want to go through  
with this, then we'll go through it along with you."

"Your mother's right again," Harold said. "But, dear, haven't you  
and I BOTH learned that secrets and deceptions yield little good?"

Fiona looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she  
looked back up at her father. "Dad," she said, "how would you have  
felt if someone had told you when you were young that your wedding  
to Mom wouldn't be recognized by any humans because of your  
background? That your marriage with her would be officially  
ignored, that most humans would reject it socially, and that when I  
was born that I would be regarded as ... the offspring of an  
unsanctioned union?"

Harold considered her daughter's words, then blushed somewhat.  
"Well ..." he admitted reticently, "if you look at it from that  
perspective --"

"That's the perspective that I HAVE to look at it from," Fiona said,  
"because that's where I am!"

"But Fiona," her mother said, "to lie about --"

"I'm not asking you to lie!" Fiona objected. "In fact, you CAN'T  
lie! Remember? That would give them grounds to annul the ceremony  
later. We MUST be truthful!"

"Just not TOO truthful," Harold injected.

Fiona shrugged. Then a wry smile came to her face and she said,  
"You shouldn't have a problem with that, Dad. You always were a  
good politician."

Harold looked back at his daughter and grinned cagily. "Very well,  
dear," he said. "As we said before, if it's that important to you,  
then we'll do it. Right, Lillian?"

The queen sighed. "Very well, Fiona. As we agreed, we owe you at  
least this much."

"Thanks, Mom," Fiona said sincerely. "I really appreciate this."

Lillian nodded, then lapsed into silence as she stared idly off to a  
group of hills below. Suddenly her features became alert. "Oh, my!"  
she said. "Look at that!"

"What is it, dear?" Harold asked.

"On that mountaintop below us," Lillian said. "It appears there's a  
nun down there singing ..."

---------------------------------------------------

Shrek's small party of travelers finally came to a clearing in the  
increasingly claustrophobic canopy of greenery. It was a mostly  
circular field about twenty yard wide with clear skies above and  
spongy swamp grass below.

"Finally!" Shrek said with relief, then turned back to his equine  
friend and added, "Okay, Donkey, ye can give it a rest."

"Thanks, man!" Donkey said. "My legs DO feel like they're about to  
drop off!"

"Actually," Shrek said with a grin, "I was talking about your  
mouth."

Donkey smirked back at Shrek as the ogre sat heavily on a nearby  
fallen log. Puss jumped off his shoulder onto the log beside him  
while a few yards ahead Groyl and Moyre also took a seat on another  
log. Moyre looked up at the clear sky above them. "Judging by the  
position of the sun, we're a wee bit early," she said. "Probably  
more'n a couple of hours yet 'till the ceremony's due t'commence."

"Any sign of a dragon up there?" Groyl asked as he unstrapped a  
canteen from across his shoulder, unscrewed the cap and handed it  
over to her.

"Not that I see yet," Moyre replied, taking the canteen that Groyl  
offered. "But we've got time." Moyre no longer had her left arm  
wrapped or slung, but it was still a bit tender.

Shrek unstrapped his own canteen from around his own shoulder and  
unscrewed its cap. "Thirsty, Donkey?" he asked, holding it towards  
his friend.

"Hey, thanks, man," Donkey said, taking the canteen in his mouth  
then tilting it up to let some of the water flow down his throat.

As Donkey drank, Shrek stared across the clearing at his mother as  
she scanned the sky. He knew she meant well, but he really wished  
she hadn't come up with this marriage scheme. It seemed that Fiona  
was well on her way to reconciling the limitations of what she and  
Shrek could expect given the nature of their relationship -- thanks  
in large part to Donkey -- and then Moyre had to go and stir her up  
again. Shrek sighed. It wasn't that he wouldn't gladly do this for  
Fiona if it would make her happy. In fact, Shrek couldn't really  
think of anything he wouldn't do for Fiona if it would make her  
happy. But the plan that Moyre had come up with was so risky, with  
so many things that could go wrong -- and if any of them DID go  
wrong, then Fiona would be even more heartsick than before.

Donkey finished drinking, tilted the canteen back down and held it  
out to Puss. "Gracias, amigo," the feline said, taking it with his  
front paws. Puss took a small drink, handed the canteen back over  
to Shrek, and then asked Donkey, "So, compadre, it's been a while  
since I've seen your little ninos. How are they doing?"

"Oh, they're doin' GREAT!" Donkey gushed as Shrek began to take a  
long drink from the canteen himself. "They're stayin' with a  
babysitter while we take care of business here. But they're  
getting' along fine. Dragon's been teachin' 'em flyin' and how to  
control their fire an' other dragon stuff, an' I've been teachin'  
'em to talk. And they're getting' good at it! They're past the  
'momma' and 'dadda' stage and are startin' ta say little words an'  
even stringin' short sentences together! Before long I'll have all  
six of 'em talkin' just as good as me!"

Shrek suddenly spewed out most of the water that was in his mouth  
like a geyser erupting, and then he started gagging on the rest.  
Puss quickly jumped onto the ogre's back and started pounding as  
hard as he could -- which, despite the cat's best efforts, actually  
did virtually no good. Shrek's parents looked over with concern and  
leapt to their feet, but Shrek had started breathing again -- albeit  
belaboredly -- and waved them back down. As Shrek's gasping evolved  
into a controlled wheezing, Puss jumped from Shrek's back onto the  
log beside him and asked, "Boss, are you okay?"

"Yeah, man," Donkey added with concern. "What happened?"

Shrek, his breathing almost but not quite back to normal, looked  
back at Donkey. "I guess I found that hard t'keep down," the ogre  
managed to say.

Donkey stared back at Shrek, a confused look on the equine's face.  
He was about to ask something else when Moyre pointed up to the sky  
and shouted, "Look! There they are!"

Everyone looked up and indeed did see Dragon high in the sky. The  
ogres stood and they and Puss waved up at her. Dragon looked down,  
smiled when she spotted the party, then began spiraling downward  
towards the clearing. After several circles she landed in the  
middle of the clearing, between the log beside which Shrek's parents  
stood and the one beside which Shrek stood. As was Dragon's wont,  
however, her landing was a hard one, and her right rear foot thudded  
into a particularly soft piece of the moisture-laden ground. The  
result was that a gush of watery mud was sent toward Shrek's log.  
Both Shrek and Donkey received part of the splash, but the brunt of  
the mucky spray smashed into Puss, washing him backwards off the log  
with a yowl.

"Oh, MAN," Donkey said, and tried shaking himself dry as Dragon  
looked back at her partially sunken foot with distaste. With a  
little effort she pulled it out of the mud, a loud sucking sound  
accompanying the extraction, and then she shook off most of the mud  
that still tried clinging to it.

While Donkey and Dragon tried shaking themselves clean, Shrek looked  
down at his mud-spattered outfit, then sighed and turned around to  
look across the other side of the log at Puss. The cat was on his  
back, but lifting himself up to his elbows. He was covered with  
watery mud from his trademark boots to his cavalier hat -- a hat  
whose brim now drooped downwards at an angle and whose plume now  
hung like a limp noodle. "Puss," Shrek asked, "are you okay?"

Puss took a moment to look over his soggy, muddy fur, and scowled.  
A moment later he started unleashing a string of invectives in  
Spanish.

"HEY!" Shrek said sharply. "Cut that out!" Shrek turned to see  
Fiona and her mother standing up from their seats atop Dragon.  
Shrek smiled, then added, "There's ladies present."

"Sorry, Boss," Puss said despondently, struggling to his feet. He  
detached and started wringing out his cape, trying to maintain as  
much dignity as he could.

Shrek hurried over as Dragon reached back and held out an open paw  
to Fiona and her mother. Fiona retrieved two string-tied bundles of  
garments from the floor of their 'carriage', tucked the bundles  
under her left arm, and took her mother's left hand with her right  
as the two royals cautiously stepped onto Dragon's proffered paw.  
As Dragon carefully lowered them to the ground, Fiona caught Shrek's  
eye. She smiled at him, her beautiful face filled with love and  
excited anticipation, but with a hint of trepidation mixed in.  
Shrek felt his heart pound a little harder in his chest, as it  
always did when he saw Fiona smile at him. He smiled back, trying  
to prevent any hint of his own misgivings from showing on his face.

As Dragon's paw reached the ground, Shrek bowed to Queen Lillian,  
said, "Your Majesty," then held out a hand to help her down.

"Thank you, Shrek," the queen said with a warm smile, then took his  
hand with her free one and the two ogres helped her step gingerly  
off Dragon's paw onto the spongy ground. "It's good to see you  
again," Lillian said once she had her footing, then leaned up and  
kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said, blushing slightly and bowing again.

Shrek then turned back to Fiona, who was still standing on Dragon's  
paw, and a deeper and more playful smile creased his face. "Your  
Highness," he said, bowing to her as he had to her mother, then held  
out his hand.

Fiona giggled. "My Prince," she said, curtseying back, then took  
his proffered hand with her free one and allowed him to help her  
down. Once down, they leaned forward and kissed each other on the  
lips -- gingery, so as not to smear Fiona's blue lipstick or rub off  
any of her black nosepaint.

They beheld each other for several seconds after the kiss broke.  
She surely was a beautiful bride, he had to concede. Of course, she  
had been a beautiful bride before. Now, in attire and makeup more  
befitting an ogress about to be wed, she retained that beauty, and  
glowed as brightly as before.

"Ye look beautiful," Shrek said.

"Really?" Fiona asked, staring into his eyes as if try to gage  
whether he was saying that just to ease her apprehension or if he  
really meant it.

"Really, really," Shrek confirmed, and Fiona apparently found in his  
eyes what she was hoping for. Her smile beamed back at him.

Of course, Shrek would have found her beautiful even if she still  
had the anemic skin tones, emaciated figure, and puny ears of her  
human self. But that was Shrek. The only problem he currently had  
was with her hair. The style was much more in keeping with the way  
ogresses generally wore their hair, which was of course why Fiona  
and Moyre had cut it that way -- one less non-conformity to attract  
attention. Normally, Shrek had no problem with the style, and even  
found it attractive -- on other ogresses. But it simply wasn't  
Fiona, and if it wasn't Fiona -- well, then it wasn't right. He  
looked forward to having this all behind them so she could grow it  
back the way it belonged.

Shrek sighed and, forcing his mind back to practical matters, gazed  
back up to the carriage attachment on Dragon's back. "Where's your  
father?" he asked.

"I'm right here!" came Harold's voice from -- surprisingly --  
Fiona's direction.

"Wha --" Shrek stammered, looking back towards Fiona. Then he saw  
Harold's head poking out from atop the bundles Fiona held under her  
arm, his small crown slightly askew. "Oh!" Shrek said, then knelt  
on one knee, bowed, and said, "Your Majesty."

Harold smiled. "Shrek, please!" the frog said. "Like I said  
before, just call me 'Dad'!" He then leaped from his perch on the  
bundles into Lillian's waiting hands.

"Well, speaking of 'Dad's," Shrek said, turning towards his own  
parents, who were approaching the quartet. "I'd like ye t'meet my  
folks." Shrek cleared his throat and said, somewhat awkwardly,  
"Queen Lillian and King Harold, I'd like ye t'meet my parents, my  
mom, Moyre, and my dad Groyl."

Both older ogres bowed and said, "Your Majesties."

"Please, there's no need for formality" Lillian said. "We're all  
family here."

"Indeed!" Harold echoed. "I must say, it's a privilege to finally  
meet the parents of such an extraordinary young man!" The king then  
paused, glanced over at Fiona, and asked, "Uh -- is 'man' a proper  
term to use here? I don't mean to commit any inadvertent faux pas."

"Yes, 'man' is acceptable, from what I've been told," Fiona replied.  
"Although we generally prefer the terms 'ogre' and 'ogress'."

Shrek couldn't help but grin. Fiona had actually said 'we' when  
referring to ogres around her parents. Shrek still remembered that  
painful first visit to Far Far Away and how Fiona, who had been  
adjusting so well -- indeed, enthusiastically -- to her ogress self  
after their marriage up until then, had started reverting once back  
under her parents' roof. He recalled her dinner belch and her  
embarrassed reaction to it, her humiliation over admitting their  
living conditions, and how during their after-dinner spat the  
greatest insult she could think to hurl at him was, 'You're behaving  
like an ogre!' Now, to hear her say 'we' ... Shrek couldn't have  
felt a stronger inner glow if he'd swallowed a fairy.

"So!" Lillian said, turning to Shrek's father. "Groyl, I must say,  
your physical resemblance to your son is remarkable. It's easy to  
see where Shrek gets his ... I mean, how Shrek has turned out to be  
a chip off the old block."

"Aye," Groyl agreed, chuckling. "Although whether that's a good  
thing or a bad thing is rather in the eye of the beholder, eh?"

Lillian smiled back coyly.

"To the devil with looks!" Harold said. "Groyl, if you're the  
source of your son's bravery and fidelity, then you must be a  
formidable ogre indeed!"

"I don't know about my own contribution," Groyl said, glancing at  
Shrek, "but from what I've heard of his exploits, plus what I've  
seen myself, I can tell ye that no father could be prouder of his  
offspring than I am of mine."

"Sir," Harold responded, looking towards Fiona, "I fear we have  
found the first issue over which we differ."

The newlyweds looked down and blushed in embarrassment, then looked  
at each other and smiled.

"Well!" Moyre said, a grin on her lips and an odd gleam in her eye  
as she beheld Fiona's parents. "So this is the couple that tried to  
kill my daughter-in-law!"

There was a short, communal gasp, and then silence. Even the  
ambient sounds of the swamp seemed to dissipate as everyone stared  
at Moyre, slack-jawed and wide-eyed -- everyone that is except for  
Puss, who was busy sitting on the log and cleaning off various mud-  
spattered parts of his anatomy with his tongue.

"MOYRE!" Groyl eventually stammered. "How COULD you --"

"It's true, isn't it?" Moyre asked. "If it had been up to them,  
then THAT ogress --" here Moyre pointed towards a mortified Fiona  
"-- wouldn't exist today!"

"MOM!" Shrek said sharply. "Now's not the time --"

"Oh, then when is?" Moyre retorted, then addressed the shocked king  
and queen. "If I understand what I've heard correctly, you two were  
so embarrassed by your daughter's nightly visage and a few 'ogreish'  
mannerisms that ye locked her out of sight every night while she was  
growing up. Ye conditioned her to regard her nocturnal self with  
the same contempt YOU did. And as soon as the opportunity arose, ye  
gladly shipped her off t'spend years imprisoned in a tower with the  
expectation that some big-haired human hunk would wipe away with a  
kiss not only her ugly inhuman form but also expunge from her very  
personality those things that made her unique, so that ye could get  
back a prim, preening, polite and proper princess. I may as well  
throw 'plastic' in with that, since what ye would have gotten back  
would have been but a shell of the person ye locked away."

"MOYRE!" Fiona cried, finally finding her voice. "That's enough!  
My father ... he had his own reasons ... his condition --"

"Fiona, dear, I understand that your father had his own identity  
crisis," Moyre said. "And if that was enough to drive him t'sell  
his soul to the Fairy Godmother, then I might have found some  
sympathy. It's that he tried t'sell YOUR soul that irritates me.  
Your husband, dear, is not the first ogre he tried to kill."

"That's not fair!" Fiona snarled, now starting to become angry. She  
bore her teeth, balled her hands into fists, and stepped toward  
Moyre. "My father --" the princess began.

"It's all right, Fiona," Harold said, waving her back. The frog  
king then took a deep, labored breath and faced Moyre. "You mother-  
in-law is quite correct. I was a fool."

"WE were fools," Lillian corrected him. "I went to Godmother with  
you --"

"Yes, but it was ME that set the tone," Harold said to his wife.  
Then to Moyre he said, "I see that you're a very direct person, and  
that you've become rather fond of my daughter over the past weeks.  
You've also grown rather close to her, I understand. I appreciate  
that. Frankly, I envy that. While she was growing up I ... I was  
never able to really open up with her. That blasted curse -- I mean  
enchantment -- always got in the way. Or rather, I LET it get in  
the way. I was never able to get it out of my mind. Whether it was  
because I blamed myself, or blamed her, or -- well, it doesn't  
matter now."

Harold paused for a moment, wiped impatiently at one eye, then  
continued. "The fact is that you are right. When my daughter  
needed me most I sent her away. For what it's worth, whatever other  
agendas might have been prodding my pathetic soul or prejudices  
filling my foolish mind, I was also inspired by love, and I really  
did think that Fiona would be happier as a pure human. You can't  
deny that life would have been easier for her. But now ... I see  
how wrong I was. I realize now the tragedy of all the years I lost  
with my daughter ... important, formative years ... years I can  
never get back, but years that I would gladly give my right arm to  
get back if I could."

Harold looked at Fiona. "Daughter," he said, "thank you for trying  
to defend me. But there really is no defense. It doesn't matter,  
though. For there's also no insult that your mother-in-law can toss  
at me as bad as the ones I've thrown at myself ever since the night  
of the ball whenever I think back and realize the sins I've  
committed in ever trying to bury such a treasure as yourself."

Tears began to well in Fiona's eyes, but it was from the log where  
Puss sat that a great sob could be heard. Everyone looked that  
direction. The cat looked back, abashed. "Excusa me, please," he  
said. "Uh ... a bit of mud got into my eye." He then took his  
cape, tried to find a relatively dry spot, and dabbed at his eyes.

"But Dad," Fiona said, turning back toward Harold. "Like we agreed  
on our ride over her, things turned out okay in the end. MORE than  
okay."

"So the ends justify the means?" he asked doubtfully.

"In this case ... YES," Fiona said with resolve. Then she turned  
towards Moyre. "And Mom, without the actions of my father, whether  
you regard them as well-intentioned or not, I would never have met  
your son. He'd still be brooding alone in his swamp. Is that what  
you'd prefer?"

A corner of Moyre's mouth curled into a smile. "Indeed not," she  
replied.

"Good!" Fiona said, now addressing the whole group. "Then we're all  
agreed. Things may have been a bit bumpy at times, but it's all  
worked out for the best. Hey, I'M the one that was locked in the  
tower, guys. Although I echo my father's regret over the time I  
missed with my parents, it turned out that it really WAS for my own  
good. How could it NOT be, considering what I ended up with?" Here  
she looked over at Shrek and smiled. He smiled back with humble  
gratitude.

"So from this time forth," Fiona continued, "let us agree to leave  
past recriminations and regrets behind us. With this second  
ceremony we complete the joining of our separate families into one.  
One very ... UNIQUE family, but one family nevertheless. We begin a  
new journey today into an uncertain but exciting future. Let's make  
that journey bound together with ties of love and acceptance, so  
that if any of us stumbles, loved ones will be there to support them  
and prevent their fall."

"Bravo, Fiona!" Lillian said, and applauded her daughter.

"Yes, Fiona," Harold said with pride. "Spoken with the spirit of a  
true princess."

"And with the boldness of a true ogress," Groyl added.

"Aye," Moyre agreed. "Nice sentiments ... although a bit mushy."  
She smiled playfully at her daughter-in-law. Fiona returned the  
smile in kind, then shrugged.

"Sorry to break up this little touch-feely bondin' thing y'all got  
goin'," Donkey suddenly injected. "But speakin' of journeys, don't  
we need ta get goin' to the ceremony? The sun's startin' ta get a  
little low."

"You're right, Donkey," Shrek agreed. "Fiona and I and our parents  
need t'be going. But like I said b'fore, you and Dragon and Puss  
need t'stay here."

"Ah, c'mon!" Donkey objected. "You weren't serious!"

"Donkey," Shrek explained, "after all that happened at Far Far Away,  
Fiona and I are ... well, we're like celebrities, ESPECIALLY around  
the ogre community. I mean, how many ogres get such press?  
Honestly?"

"But Shrek --"

"No 'but's, Donkey," Shrek insisted. "I'm sorry, but if we show up  
at the marriage ceremony with a talking Donkey, a boot-wearing cat,  
and a red dragon in tow, then somebody might very well add it up and  
figure out who we are. And if they do that, then they'll realize  
Fiona's true background."

"Well ... I can stay quiet!" Donkey said.

Shrek raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Really, I can!" Donkey persisted.

"And I can leave my boots and outfit here, Senor," Puss offered,  
then added irritably, "They need to dry anyway."

"I'm sorry guys," Shrek said, "we can't chance it. It's gonna be  
tough enough getting away with this as it is. We'll meet ye back  
here after the ceremony's done."

"We really do appreciate you wanting to be with us for the  
ceremony," Fiona added. "And we thank you for coming this far with  
us. You are all wonderful friends. Dragon, I especially want to  
thank you for all the shuttle service you've been providing the past  
couple of weeks. You've been fantastic."

Dragon smiled and tilted her head in acknowledgement.

Donkey sighed, then looked over at Moyre. "Hey, Moyre, this was  
your idea," he said. "You REALLY think y'all can get away with  
this?"

Moyre shrugged. "We're gonna give it our best shot," she said.  
"Look, ogre ceremonies are pretty informal. There's no written  
licenses. The rules are that all questions posed by the official  
must be replied to truthfully. And, of course, that both principals  
and their parents are ogres. So, all six of us will arrive t'take  
part in the ceremony. An ogre groom, an ogress bride, ..." Here  
Moyre reached into a pocket and withdrew two small dark green  
bottles of potion and approached Harold and Lillian. Holding them  
out to the couple, she concluded, "... and TWO sets of ogre parents.  
We will present ourselves thus, and let presumptions work in Shrek  
and Fiona's FAVOR for a change."

"And ya call that bein' truthful?" Donkey asked skeptically.

"It's being truthful ... enough," Moyre replied.

"So even if ya DO get away with this, what happens if they find out  
they've been hoodwinked?" Donkey asked. "Can't they annul the  
marriage?"

"Heavens, no!" Moyre replied. "Not as long as nobody lies during  
the ceremony. Once they're pronounced married, that's it. End of  
story. Bye-bye. See ye later."

"Besides," Groyl added, "to rule a marriage null and void after two  
people have pledged their love and their lives to each other and  
that emotional and spiritual bond has been sealed ... surely you've  
been around ogres long enough t'know we aren't such hard-hearted  
beasts as THAT."

As her in-laws were addressing Donkey, Fiona made her way over to  
her own parents. Lillian was holding both bottles in one hand,  
staring at them, while cradling Harold with her other arm.  
Lillian's face was pale and her expression reticent as she beheld  
the green containers. Harold was also looking at them, his  
expression much the same.

"Again ... I can't tell you how grateful I am to the both of you for  
agreeing to go through with this," Fiona said, blushing shyly and  
holding out the two bundles of garments, one being Shrek's favorite  
outfit and the other being the home-made ogress outfit she had  
devised.

Harold looked up at his daughter and smiled. "Think nothing of it,  
dear," he said, forcing joviality into his tone. "Once again, it's  
the least I can do after all I put you through."

"After what WE put you through," Lillian corrected, also smiling at  
her daughter. "It's quite all right, darling. Besides, this will  
give us a little glimpse into your own world. That in itself is  
worth the experience."

"Plus the irony IS rather delicious, is it not?" Harold chuckled,  
and leapt off of Lillian's arm and onto the ground beside her.  
"But, Fiona, you did say it would wear off after a couple of days,  
right?"

"Oh, certainly!" Fiona confirmed. "At least that's what the witch  
said."

"Well, if you can't trust a witch, who can you trust?" Harold said  
wryly. Then he sighed and said, "Come, Lillian, and bring the new  
clothes. We need to change for the wedding." He then hopped off  
into the thick greenery surrounding the clearing.

Lillian groaned and rolled her eyes at her husband's droll remark,  
then held her arms out toward her daughter for the bundles. As  
Fiona handled them to her, the princess said, "Mom, again, thank you  
SO much --"

"Tut tut, Fiona!" Lillian said, looking up into her daughter's face.  
"You, Harold, and Shrek have all undergone changes -- physical and  
otherwise -- for ones you love. It's a privilege for me to finally  
be able to do the same."

Fiona smiled back. "You'd make a most noble ogress," she said.  
"But unfortunately, remember what we discussed --"

"I know," Lillian said. "Dignity's out, shoddily's in. I'll do my  
best."

"I'm sure you'll do great," Fiona said, and handed over the bundles.  
As Lillian took them, the mother and daughter paused in the middle  
of the transfer to give each other a hug. Eventually the hug broke.

"Oh!" Fiona said. "I almost forgot! Here ..." Fiona grasped her  
wedding band between her right index finger and thumb, hesitated for  
a moment, then pulled the ring off. She reluctantly placed it on  
the top bundle in Lillian's arms. "Please take care of this," Fiona  
said. "It's my most valuable possession." Her eyes drifted over to  
Shrek and she added, "Well, MATERIAL possession, anyway."

"I quite understand," Lillian said as Fiona turned back towards her.  
The queen smiled up at her daughter again, laid one hand  
affectionately against the princess's cheek, then turned and  
followed the path that her husband had taken into the greenery.

---------------------------------------------------

Some time later the wedding party had resumed their trip through the  
bog -- all except for Donkey, Dragon, and Puss, who were left in the  
clearing. Donkey had reluctantly settled down to wait and was  
laying beside Dragon. Puss, in the meantime, was staring at the  
path that the others had disappeared down a few minutes before.  
After a few seconds more, he began slowly following it.

"PUSS!" Donkey called. "What are you doin'?! I distinctly heard  
Shrek say that we were ta stay put!"

Puss turned back to Donkey. "I heard him also, amigo," he conceded.  
"But please note that I did not say I agreed." Puss then turned  
back and started down the path again.

"HEY!" Donkey said, jumping to his feet. "Puss, if you mess up  
their weddin' --"

"I do not intend to 'mess up' anything," Puss responded, turning  
back to Donkey again. "I plan to watch quietly from a hidden  
position. I hope all I need to do IS watch. But our companions are  
playing a dangerous game, compadre. If found out, they may make  
certain other ogres angry -- ogres not so amiably inclined as  
themselves. Should that happen, I plan to be there to lend my  
services." Puss again turned back and started down the path after  
the wedding party.

"But Puss ..." Donkey called again.

"You do not have to come, Donkey," Puss said, still walking and not  
turning back this time. "You can stay with your dragon lady if you  
are afraid."

"Afraid?!" Donkey bristled. "Who said anything about bein' afraid?  
I ain't afraid! I just ..."

Puss did not answer and was now out of sight, having been enveloped  
by the lush greenery a few yards down the path.

"AHHHH!" Donkey groaned in exasperation, then looked up at Dragon,  
who was watching him curiously. "Look, Babe, I'm gonna tag along  
just in the off chance Puss might be right for a change. It's only  
s'posed ta be a couple or three miles down the path. You stay here.  
Probably nothin' will happen and we'll be back in a while. But just  
in the off chance it does ... well, just keep a sharp ear out in  
case I need ta whistle for ya. Okay?"

Dragon nodded but appeared skeptical. She looked at the opening of  
the path down which Puss had just disappeared, then she looked back  
down at Donkey. She cocked her eyebrow critically.

"I know, I know," Donkey sputtered. "Don't say it."

Donkey then hurried down the path after Puss. He shortly caught up  
with the feline.

"Hey!" Donkey said, "I thought you said your boots would stick in  
the mud."

Puss shrugged and said, "I lied."


	14. Layer 13: Snow Job in the Marshland

Layer 13: Snow Job in the Marshland

A crocodile slid silently in the water near the bank of a lagoon,  
only its eyes, nostrils, and the very top of its ridged back visible  
in the dark water as it slowly cast about the reeds for a meal.   
Then it detected a disturbance along the lush wall of greenery of  
the swamp that surrounded and fed the lagoon. Suddenly three male  
ogres appeared at the opening of one of the paths that led into the  
bog. The first one was a particularly large and surly looking  
brute, strong but stocky and balding. He sported well-worn trousers  
and shirt with a vest made of bearskin. The beast strode  
purposefully toward the water across the fifteen-some-odd yards of  
clearing that separated the edge of the swamp from the lagoon. 

The other two ogres followed him. One was not quite as tall as the  
first ogre but he was thinner, with a full head of black hair that  
sat on his head as if a black mop-top had been laid there, with  
bangs that almost covered his eyes. His ears and nose were  
noticeably larger that most ogres'. His clothes were, like the  
first ogre, similar in style and degree of wear, with a vest made of  
lizard skin. The last ogre was even taller and muscular than the  
first, but his face seemed more placid and his demeanor not as  
alert. His head was topped by a large mane of curly brown hair, and  
his vest was made of sheepskin.

The first ogre reached the edge of the lagoon. He knelt and looked  
into the water for a few seconds, then reached down, cupped some  
water between his two hands, and then splashed his face. As the  
ogre wiped his face the hunter crocodile smiled, then slowly and  
silently swam through the reeds toward the beast. The ogre appeared  
unconcerned. After a few seconds, the croc was within a few feet of  
the unwary male. With a huge splash the crocodile lunged out of the  
water at the kneeling ogre.

"BOO!" the crocodile shouted.

"CRIKEY!" the ogre bellowed while simultaneously releasing a great  
gust of gas in an inadvertent but impressive display of flatulence  
cut short only because he then fell backwards onto his hindquarters.

The crocodile and the other two ogres laughed heartily down at the  
fallen ogre, who in turn stared up at the crocodile with and  
expression which made it obvious he didn't appreciate the humor at  
all. "Very funny, Dinkum," the ogre growled, his voice marked by an  
obvious Ozzie accent.

Dinkum fought down his laughter. "I thought so, Skungy!" the croc  
said, his voice reflecting the same type of accent, only thicker.   
Dinkum then nodded to the slimmer ogre and then the taller ogre in  
turn and said, "Drongo ... Wanker ... g'day, mates!"

"G'day, Dinkum," the two standing ogres replied as their own  
laughter trailed off.

"Is it?" Skungy, still blushing in anger and embarrassment, said as  
he got to his feet. "It'd be a lot better if I didn't have to come  
to attend another bleeding wedding. So who's getting hitched this  
time?"

"Not sure," Dinkum replied. "They're a couple from outside the bog.   
All I know is the wedding committee told me to expect them this  
afternoon sometime, so I imagine they should be here any moment."   
Then the croc's voice lowered clandestinely and he added, "I hear  
they're in a bit of a rush to get married."

"Bit of a rush, eh?" Drongo repeated. "I wonder why that is ...  
wink wink nudge nudge know whatahmean, say no more?" he added  
suggestively, winking at and nudging Wanker in the ribs.

"Oh, come, Drongo," Wanker said. "Don't you have any sense of  
romance?"

"Yeah, right. Romance!" Skungy scoffed.

"You have something against romance, Skungy?" a female voice asked.

The three ogres' heads all jerked to the side. At a far end of the  
clearing, on one of a number of felled logs, sat an ogress. She was  
about normal height for a female, but somewhat portlier. She had  
scraggly dull brunette hair and wore a modest moss-green dress.

"Lolly!" Skungy exclaimed. "When did you get back to the bog?"

"Oh, a couple of days ago," she replied, standing up and walking  
over to the others. "I heard there was a wedding, and ... well, I  
just felt in the mood to attend. There's still no limit on  
witnesses, right?"

"Indeed not," Dinkum agreed. "The more the merrier." The croc  
like Drongo and Wanker seemed to be enjoying Skungy's reaction to  
seeing Lolly again.

"So ... uh, did you have a good vacation visiting your folks out in  
the countryside?" Skungy asked.

"Oh, it was all right," she said. "I got to try some different  
foods, chased a few villagers around, but ... well, it was just too  
open and dry. I really started feeling homesick for the nice,  
steamy, closed-in bog."

"Speaking of foods, I assume they agreed with you," Skungy said,  
looking over her torso admiringly. "You've gained weight, haven't  
you?"

"You noticed," Lolly said, blushing and grinning shyly. "Yes, about  
twenty pounds."

"Well, they look good on you!" Skungy said, then squinted and looked  
over her brunette locks. "And are you using a new ointment for your  
hair?"

"Yes, actually," she admitted. "It's specially formulated to  
increase frizz and keep the luster down."

"It works really well!" Skungy said.

"Thanks," she said.

The two of them looked at each other quietly for a few seconds, then  
Skungy said, "Uh, Lolly ..."

"Yes ... Skungy?" she prodded.

"I was thinking ..." he stammered "... maybe ... after the wedding  
... you'd like to grab a bite to eat? There's a new place that  
opened up recently, 'The Slippery Eel', that has the best slime-  
basted slugs you've ever tasted!"

Her smile deepened. "I'd like that," she said.

Skungy smiled back at her, and they gazed at each other for several  
seconds. Then Skungy seemed to become aware of three other sets of  
eyes staring at him. He looked around to see Dinkum, Drongo, and  
Wanker all looking at him and Lolly, all with odd grins on their  
faces. Skungy's face immediately resumed its churlish expression from  
earlier. "WHAT?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Dinkum said, looking away along with the others.   
Then he noticed a stirring in the swamp. "Blimey!" he exclaimed.   
"It looks like our wedding party's arriving now!"

As everyone else looked toward the swamp, Skungy whispered to Lolly,  
"Anyway, I think you look great. Better than that pretender  
princess we all read about, I'm sure. What was her name again?"

Fiona pushed along the marshy path through the bog just behind Moyre  
and Groyl. The princess felt both her excitement and her  
trepidation grow as they drew nearer their destination. "With luck,  
they'll never even have heard of us," she suggested, hoping for  
support.

"I wouldn't wager on it, dear," Moyre responded.

"Oh," Fiona said, disheartened. Then she felt Shrek's hand on her  
shoulder.

"It'll be fine," he said softly into her ear, trying to sound  
cheerful.

Fiona smiled tentatively and laid her hand on his. "Thanks," she  
said. "I just hope I haven't made a foolish mistake in dragging you  
all out here."

"You're not dragging anybody anywhere," Shrek said. "We're all here  
because we love ye. And if the people we see have a problem with  
marrying us ... well, that's just it, THEIR problem. You're as  
worthy and deserving as any conventionally-born ogress. More so, in  
fact. If they're too pig-headed to recognize that, then THEY'RE the  
fools."

Fiona had to take a moment to clear a catch in her throat, then she  
said, "I love you, Shrek. I shall love you forever. That is a vow  
I gladly take now before Heaven itself, and wedding ceremonies of  
ANY species be hanged."

Suddenly Moyre halted and raised her right arm at the elbow,  
signaling for the others to stop as well. Groyl, Fiona and Shrek  
did so.

Moyre turned to face the others. "We're almost there," she said  
softly. "Now remember ..." Here she stopped what she was about to  
say and looked questioningly behind Shrek and Fiona. "Where's your  
parents?" she asked the princess.

The two younger ogres spun around. The path behind them was empty.

"Oh, no!" Fiona moaned. "We lost them! We'd better go back "

"Whoa whoa whoa," Shrek said. "Listen! They're coming now."

Fiona did listen, and she did hear the sound of someone sloshing  
along the path they had just come through. After a few moments she  
saw them appear; two ogres, a male dressed in Shrek's outfit, and a  
female dressed in Fiona's. They slowing and clumsily moved forward  
toward the others, both but especially the male unused to the  
massive weight increase and the way it was distributed over their  
bodies. 

The potion had worked perfectly. Fiona's parents were physically  
indistinguishable from natural-born ogres; both had green skin and  
trumpet ears and extra heft to match their daughter and son-in-law.   
But beyond that, they retained recognizable facial features if  
someone cared to look closely enough, just as Fiona's ogress face  
still retained a broader and pudgier semblance to her more delicate  
human visage. Harold's wide mouth and large eyes still stood out,  
and he had a gray tuft of beard on his chin. He even had receding  
gray hair now just as he had when he had been human. Lillian still  
had dusky blond hair, although she and Fiona had undone the bun she  
normally wore it in and mussed it before they had left the clearing.   
Lillian's ogress face had the same more mature resemblance to her  
ogress daughter's as her human face had to Fiona's human face. The  
queen was actually a bit taller than the princess now, and just  
barely fit convincingly into her outfit. Harold, on the other hand,  
was a tad smaller than Shrek, and his son-in-law's outfit looked  
slightly big on him. Fortunately, ogres were not known as fashion  
plates, and so clothes that did not fit perfectly would not garner  
that much attention.

Unfortunately, the metamorphosis had a side effect that Fiona hadn't  
anticipated, although in retrospect she realized that she should  
have. Unused to the difference in weight and musculature and build  
from their former selves, her parents had problems with  
coordination, and moved with ungainly awkwardness. Fiona mentally  
kicked herself. Having always had her dual nature until recently,  
adjusting between the two physical states was literally second  
nature to her, and so she hadn't even thought about how it would  
affect a 'newcomer' to the species.

"I'm sorry to put you through this, guys," she apologized as her  
parents drew near to the others. "You must think me terribly  
selfish."

"Oh, sweetheart, not at all," Lillian said. "We're glad to do this.   
It's quite an adventure!"

"Indeed," Harold concurred. "In fact, it's rather nice to be able  
to stand up and look people in the eye again." Then he grimaced.   
"Although this body has certain ... features with which I've not had  
to deal as much with before," he added as he reached back and  
scratched between his buttcheeks. "The only really bad thing was  
the vile taste of that potion. It's a good thing you thought to  
bring some sugar along, Lillian. A spoonful of that helped the  
potion go down much easier. A most delightful idea, that."

"I try to be prepared," Lillian said.

"Speaking of being prepared," Moyre interjected somewhat  
impatiently, "we're about t'meet the wedding officials, so does  
everybody remember what we discussed back in the clearing?"

Everybody nodded.

"Okay," Moyre said. "I've tried t'be as vague as I can in getting  
this set up. Remember, ye can't tell any lies. But this isn't a  
trial ye don't have t'tell the whole truth, either. Any last  
questions?"

"I have one," Harold said. "I'm trying to understand, so could you  
tell me again ... why a crocodile?"

"I already told ye," Moyre said. "It's tradition!"

Harold sighed deeply, and his large eyes sought out his daughter.

Fiona smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, Dad," she empathized. "It's  
just one of those things we have to roll with." Harold nodded his  
reluctant acquiescence.

"Does anyone ELSE have any questions?" Moyre asked.

"Just one more," Groyl said, nodding to Fiona's parents. "Nothing  
personal, friends, but mightn't ye not draw some undue attention,  
moving about as awkward and ye are?"

"Well, we're doing our best," Harold said, somewhat chagrinned.

"Maybe with some more time " Lillian began.

"Unfortunately, we don't HAVE that much time," Moyre interrupted.   
The ogress seemed to lose herself in thought for several seconds,  
then her face brightened and she turned to Groyl. "Here, lend me  
your flask," she said to her husband.

"Flask?" Groyl responded innocently. "What flask?"

"The one ye keep hidden under your vest," Moyre replied  
matter-of-factly.

"I don't know what you're "

"GROYL," Moyre prodded impatiently.

Groyl sighed. He reached inside his vest and, blushing meekly,  
withdrew a metal flask and handed it to Moyre.

"Good!" Moyre said, unscrewing the lid. Then he held it out to  
Fiona's parents and said, "Now, each of you take a drink to your  
daughter's wedding with this. In fact, gargle with it. That way if  
anybody remarks on your ... difficulty with coordination, we can  
honestly say you've been celebrating their wedding. If they draw a  
connection between the two ... well, that's THEIR inference, isn't  
it? If they can smell the liquor on your breath, it'll be that much  
easier for them to draw such an inference."

"Moyre! No!" Fiona objected. "I can't ask my parents to "

"Oh, it's quite all right, dear," Harold said, taking the flask from  
Moyre. "In fact, it's my honor." Harold cleared his throat, then  
held the flask out to Fiona and Shrek and said, "In my diplomatic  
duties as king I've often had to drink to things and to people  
which, frankly, left a bad taste in my mouth in more ways than one.   
It therefore gives me considerable pleasure to drink to this most  
worthy occasion, and to a most worthy couple. A couple who've  
triumphed over considerable physical dangers and immense  
psychological hardships ... a number of which, I regret to say, were  
of my construction."

Fiona opened her mouth to object, but her father gently waved her  
down with his free hand. He then continued, "Here's to a couple  
whose love has empowered them to scale walls of fear and breach  
bulwarks of bigotry and presumptions. It is a love whose power is  
so demonstratively great it even inspires others to considerations  
and actions otherwise believed beyond their capacity ... even some  
old fools such as myself. I'm immensely proud of ... and thankful  
to ... you both."

Fiona and Shrek smiled humbly and gratefully. Harold smiled back,  
then took a drink from the flask. He swished it around in his  
mouth, gargled for a few seconds, then swallowed. He then coughed  
for several seconds and then wheezed.

"Good HEAVENS, sir!" Harold said to Groyl. "What is IN that thing?"

"Ograrian ale," Groyl replied.

"It ... has quite a KICK to it," Harold observed.

"Oh, aye," Groyl agreed, a small grin at the corner of his mouth.

"I assume you're done with this, then," Lillian said, taking the  
flask from her husband.

"Mom ..." Fiona began.

"It's all right, dear," Lillian said, smiling. Then she held out  
the flask with both hands towards her daughter and son-in-law.   
"Here's to love and life and the happily-ever-after that we always  
wished for our daughter ... and her valiant, noble rescuer."

Shrek blushed as Lillian took a drink, swished it in her mouth,  
gargled, then swallowed it. Her eyes immediately grew wider and one  
hand fell across her large belly. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed.

"Bit of a jolt, eh?" Harold teased.

"It's certainly no rum punch," she commented then hiccupped.

"Are we all ready, then?" Moyre asked.

Fiona looked around nervously as everyone nodded their concurrence.

"All right, let's do this," Moyre said, reaching to take the flask  
back from Lillian.

"Just a second," Fiona said, and grabbed the flask. She took a long  
drink from it, tilting it all the way up. After a few moments she  
lowered it, coughed, and handed it back to Moyre. "Okay," the  
princess said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I'm  
ready now."

Moyre raised an eyebrow as she took the flask, screwed its lid back  
on, and handed it back to Groyl. The ogre sighed over the  
container's considerable loss of weight and then secreted it back  
under his vest.

Meanwhile Fiona looked down at her outfit, straightened it out, then  
looked up at Shrek only to find him staring at her oddly. "What?"  
the princess asked.

"Oh, nothing," Shrek said defensively. Then he grinned and said.   
"Ye remember your new vows?"

Fiona smirked as she recalled the lines she was to recite.   
"Indeed," she replied. "And you?"

"Aye," he said, and chuckled.

"Are you two ready?" Moyre asked Shrek and Fiona a bit anxiously.

Shrek and Fiona looked at each other, sighed together, and then  
nodded in unison.

"Good," Moyre said, turning back toward the path. "All right," she  
announced, "this is it!"

Both Shrek and Fiona winced at Moyre's choice of words. They then  
joined hands, fingers entwining, offered each other a last little  
smile, and then fell into step behind Moyre and Groyl.

Fiona squeezed Shrek's hand a little tighter as they followed her  
in-laws into the clearing. She saw the officials several yards away  
near the bank of a lagoon: a crocodile, three ogres, and an ogress.   
She was intimidated, but relieved that there weren't more. In her  
wildest fantasies she had envisioned a swamp full of hostile ogres.   
So maybe things would work out all right after all. Maybe.

"Hallo hallo hallo!" the crocodile said, smiling. He seemed  
friendly enough. "And a hearty g'day to all you mates and sheilas!"

"G'day, Fair ... Fair ..." Moyre said, 'Fair' being the title given  
to the recognized executor of an ogre wedding ceremony.

"Dinkum," the crocodile said. "Fair Dinkum. But no need to stand  
on etiquette. Just call me 'Dinkum'. This is a wedding, after all  
a time for joy, not for protocols!"

"Thank you, Dinkum," Moyre said. "I can't tell you how much I  
agree!"

"So," Dinkum said, "you are ... ?"

"My name is Moyre," she said, "and this is my husband, Groyl."

"Dinkum," Groyl said, nodding.

"Groyl", Dinkum said, nodding back. "So ... um, is it you two that  
are here to tie the knot?"

"Oh, Heavens, no," Moyre said. "We already tied one on years ago.   
It is my son and daughter-in-law," Moyre said, and gestured toward  
Shrek and Fiona.

"Daughter-in-law?" Dinkum asked, confused.

Fiona felt her breath stop. Moyre bit her lip, smiled, and said,  
"Oh! I mean ... well, we already think of her as family."

Dinkum nodded understandingly. "That happens a lot," he said  
sympathetically.

The two newlyweds smiled as sincerely as they could. Fiona started  
breathing again.

"Ah, quite glad to meet you!" Dinkum said. "As you heard, my name's  
Dinkum. And you are ... ?"

"I was given the name Shreklecheh," Shrek replied, emphasizing the  
second syllable in the name.

"'Shreklecheh'," one of the other ogres a particularly surly  
looking one repeated. "That name sounds familiar ..."

"It ... was my grandfather's," Shrek said. "He was quite a fellow.   
Maybe that's where ye heard it."

"Maybe," the other ogre repeated, but still regarded Shrek with  
suspicion.

"It, uh, appears the time to introduce your witnesses is here,"  
Dinkum said. "This is Skungy," he said, indicating the ogre that  
challenged Shrek. Skungy and Shrek nodded to each other, but more  
like prizefighters sizing each other up, Fiona thought  
uncomfortably, than people at a wedding. "And over here are Lolly,  
Drongo, and Wanker," Dinkum added, nodding in turn to the portly  
brunette ogress, a relatively small and thin black-haired ogre, and  
a tall curly-haired ogre. They and Moyre, Groyl, and Shrek nodded  
greetings back and forth. At least the other ogres seemed better  
tempered than Skungy at least they didn't seem hostile.

"Then I assume this is the lovely bride," Dinkum addressed Fiona.   
"And your name, child?"

"I'm called 'Fi'," Fiona replied, nodding greetings to the croc and  
other ogres in turn.

"'Fi'," Lolly said. "That's an odd name for an ogress."

"It's short," Fiona said, then realized she'd made a mistake. She  
inwardly prayed that nobody would ask

"What's it short for?" Skungy asked.

Fiona winced. She paused, then opened her mouth, but Shrek quickly  
intervened. "Hey!" he said, then asked, "Have ye ever heard of  
'Fee Fi Fo Fum?"

"Of course," Skungy replied.

"Oh!" Wanker said, assuming that Shrek was answering Skungy's  
question. "I suppose that makes sense."

"I think I have a great aunt by that name!" Drongo added.

Lolly also seemed satisfied, but Fiona noticed that Skungy was still  
regarding her (Fiona) with a skeptical gaze. But Fiona was starting  
to suspect that that was how he regarded everybody. The princess  
breathed a sigh of relief. She squeezed Shrek's hand a little  
tighter in secret thanks. He squeezed back.

"So," Dinkum said, looking past the newlyweds to Lillian and Harold,  
who were awkwardly waddling forward, "these must be "

"My parents, yes," Fiona nodded. "My mother "

"You may call me 'Lil'", the queen said, stopping beside her  
daughter.

But Harold staggered on. He stopped in front of Skungy, who stood a  
half-foot taller. The king looked up at the ogre, smiled awkwardly  
as if not entirely sober, and said into the other's face in a voice  
also suggesting a lack of sobriety, "Just call me 'Hhhhal'." Skungy  
winced at the smell of Harold's breath and leaned back.

"Now, Dad," Fiona said with a strained laugh, and moved forward.   
She took Harold by the arms and started leading him back to where  
Lillian stood. "I'm sorry," Fiona said over her shoulder. "I'm  
afraid my father started drinking to us earlier and ... well, he's  
just not himself today." She stopped as they drew next to her  
mother, and then added, "Actually, neither of my parents are."

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Lillian asked ... and then hiccupped.   
Fiona turned to the witnesses and gave a what-can-you-do shrug.

Fiona noticed that Dinkum was staring disapprovingly at her father  
but she soon found it was not for any drinking indiscretion. "Er  
... what type of vest is that, mate?" the reptile asked.

"This?" Harold asked, and looked down at the vest. Then his eyes  
shot back up at Fiona. She realized the problem immediately, and  
couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier.

"It's alligator," Shrek said. "I made it."

"Oh!" Dinkum said with relief. "Alligator! Thank goodness! For a  
second I thought it was crocodile."

Fiona again breathed a sigh of relief. She looked over at Shrek,  
who gave her a clandestine wink. But although Dinkum seemed  
satisfied, Skungy was still glaring at her parents suspiciously.

"'Lil' and 'Hal'," Skungy mused. "Those are odd names for ogres."

"They're not too terribly odd names where we come from," Lillian  
said. "But that's ... far away from here."

"They do sound like poms," Wanker offered.

"Hummm," Skungy mumbled noncommittally.

"Well!" Moyre interjected, "We might as well get started."

"What?" Dinkum asked, surprised. "You ... don't have any other  
family or friends showing up?"

"We like our privacy," Shrek stated.

"What ogre doesn't?" Skungy asked, frowning. "But we usually invite  
a FEW friends over for occasions like this. Are you that much of a  
hermit? Or don't you HAVE any friends?"

Shrek scowled and took a step toward Skungy. Fiona quickly stepped  
in front of him, forced a smiled, and said nervously, "No, it's not  
that. It's just that ... well, I just wanted us to have a small,  
intimate wedding. Just us and our closest family. He's doing this  
for me. Is that really so uncommon?"

"Not at all, honey," Lolly said. "I think that's rather sweet.   
Don't you, Skungy?"

Skungy grumbled something unintelligible.

"All righty, then!" Dinkum said. "If you'd all care to step this  
way ..."

Dinkum then walked toward the part of the clearing where two  
parallel rows of felled logs, in various stages of decomposition,  
laid on their sides, with an 'aisle' of about six feet separating  
the rows. Several feet in front of this aisle and only a few feet  
from where the dense foliage of the bog began stood the stump of  
another tree. The stump was about a yard in diameter and grew from  
the ground for about four feet before it was cut off to form a flat  
surface. On this surface sat a leather-bound book and an extra wide  
pair of reading glasses. Dinkum headed behind this stump, then rose  
on his hind legs and leaned against the stump in a roughly upright  
stance facing the aisle.

With his front paws Dinkum picked up the glasses and put them on.   
He then opened the book and started paging through it as Fiona and  
Shrek took their place on the opposite side of the stump/pedestal  
from the crocodile. Shrek's parents took a seat on the front log of  
one row as Fiona's parents took theirs on the front log of the other  
row. There was one lonely long log that sat off to one side by  
itself at an angle to the other rows; it was here that the witnesses  
took their seats. Skungy and Lolly sat beside each other on the  
middle of the log, with Drongo flanking them on one side and Wanker  
on the other.

"Please join hands," Dinkum said as he settled on the page he was  
looking for.

Fiona faced Shrek. He had a smile on his face. Part of it was  
forced due to the awkward situation, but a good deal of it was  
genuine happiness as he beheld his wife. He reached forward and  
took Fiona's left hand in his right one, and her right one in his  
left. They squeezed each others' hands as Fiona smiled back at the  
love of her life. It appeared as if this was actually going to  
work! They were actually going to

Lillian belched. It was a long, loud belch. She immediately  
blushed in embarrassment, her elongated ears drooping towards her  
shoulders. "Excuse me!" she said unthinkingly, then covered her  
mouth.

"'Excuse me'!" Skungy echoed. "For a nice, hearty belch? THAT'S  
not an ogrism in ANY land! It's more like something a HUMAN  
would do!"

Lillian stared at Skungy, wide-eyed, her hands still covering her  
mouth. It was Harold who spoke up. "Y-y-yes it is, isn't it?" he  
stammered. "But ... would would you believe that this is a  
little prank that she sometimes plays? You know, an ogress,  
pretending to be a human, pretending to be an ogress? Ha-ha! Now,  
Lillian, I don't think this is the time or place to "

"'Lillian'!" Skungy repeated. His face took on a deeply thoughtful  
expression for a few seconds, then he snapped his fingers and said,  
"Of course! Lillian and 'Hal' Harold! The queen and king of Far  
Far Away! Then that makes her " Here Skungy turned toward the  
couple standing before the stump. He pointed at the princess  
whose face bore an expression of near panic and announced  
"Princess Fiona! These are the blokes we all read about! Neither  
her nor her parents are authentic ogres! This wedding is a beastly  
sham!"


	15. Layer 14: Wed Again

Layer 14: Wed Again  
  
"NO!" Fiona cried. She let go of Shrek's hands and whirled towards  
Dinkum. She rested her hands against the stump and looked  
pleadingly at the crocodile, whose expression was one of sternly  
repressed anger. "Please!" Fiona entreated. "We've come so far.  
It means so much --"  
  
"You all lied to me," Dinkum stated, his voice as cold as his blood.  
  
"No we didn't! Not one of us told an overt lie --"  
  
"You misrepresented yourselves. I'm sorry," Dinkum said, shutting  
the book with an air of finality. "You're not an ogress born of ogre  
parents. I cannot marry you. Those are the rules."  
  
Fiona stared at the crocodile for several seconds. Then she felt  
the rage begin. It started somewhere in the pit of her being and  
quickly emanated outwards. She began to tremble. Her eyes narrowed  
and her upper lip curled back. Dinkum's expression retreated from  
one of anger to one of apprehension.  
  
"Fiona ... sweetheart ..." Shrek ventured tentatively.  
  
Fiona ignored him. "Rules?" she snarled at the crocodile. "We  
don't need no stinking rules!"  
  
With that the ogress suddenly leapt atop the stump, glared down at  
the gawking crocodile for a moment, then reached down and grabbed  
him by either side of his wide throat and pulled him upwards. As  
everyone watching gasped Fiona held Dinkum over her head, still  
grasping his throat while resting the weight of his chest on her  
forearms. "You WILL marry us!" the princess demanded. "Just skip  
to the end. 'Husband and wife.' Say it! 'HUSBAND AND WIFE'!"  
  
"HEY!" Skungy called as the witnesses began to rise to their feet.  
"Just WHAT do you think you're --"  
  
Suddenly an orange blur flew in from out of the bog, bounced once on  
the ground a few yards in front of the witnesses -- leaving behind a  
small pair of boots standing upright beside a miniature hat -- and  
then smacked against Skungy's chest just as the ogre was still at a  
slightly awkward point as he rose to his feet. The ogre toppled  
backwards over the log with a roar of surprised anger as the orange  
thing catapulted from his chest back to where the boots stood and  
landed in them perfectly. A moment later Puss drew his sword and  
pointed it the witnesses.  
  
"My apologies, amigos, for intruding upon this festive occasion," he  
said, grabbing his hat with his free front paw and donning it. "But  
I fear that your role here must remain one of witnesses, not  
participants."  
  
"Oh, my!" Lolly gasped.  
  
"Look at that!" Drongo said.  
  
"A little kitty!" Wanker added.  
  
Skungy rose to his feet from behind the log. His fists were  
clenched and he was obviously seething. "Oooo, I'll KILL that cat!"  
he bellowed, and stepped back over the log.  
  
"I don't THINK so!" Donkey called as he came galloping from the bog  
to take a stance beside Puss. The equine then let loose with a  
whistle so loud that Puss and the ogres -- except for Fiona, whose  
attention was focused on Dinkum -- cringed. The whistle was  
immediately answered by a distant but ominous roar.  
  
"DONKEY!" Shrek growled. "I thought I told ye not t'follow us!"  
  
"I wasn't followin' you, I was followin' HIM," Donkey responded,  
nodding towards Puss.  
  
"Puuuuss," Shrek said, staring crossly at the feline.  
  
"Sorry, Boss," Puss said with a shrug. "But I thought you might  
need a little help -- as, indeed, seems to be the case. Besides ...  
curiosity got the better of me."  
  
"That's gonna get ya in trouble one day, Puss," Donkey said.  
  
"So I've heard," Puss admitted.  
  
Suddenly Dragon landed with a dull thud in the marshy ground near  
the witness log. The witnesses all gawked up at the leviathan, who  
glared back down at them and bore her teeth. "Don't nobody move!"  
Donkey commanded. "Red means STOP!"  
  
Puss lowered his sword, as all the witnesses were now staring at  
Dragon and had totally lost interest in him. The cat turned to  
Donkey and mumbled, "Show off."  
  
Donkey smirked back. "What can I say?" he asked. "When it comes ta  
makin' an impression, it's hard ta beat a big old-fashioned fire-  
breathin' dragon, even WITH all your pablum."  
  
"That's APLOMB, Donkey!" Puss retorted.  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Donkey said, then looked over to the stump where  
Fiona still held Dinkum. "Go ahead, Princess," Donkey said, his  
tone gentler.  
  
"Well?" Fiona snarled at the crocodile.  
  
"I ... can't ... do ... that," Dinkum choked out through his  
constricted air passage.  
  
"Yes you can!" Fiona rejoined. "TRY. 'Husband and wife'. SAY IT!"  
  
"FIONA!" Shrek said sharply. "Let him go. Ye don't want this."  
  
"Yes I do!"  
  
"But not this way," he said, his voice softening. "Please.  
Sweetheart. This isn't the type of marriage ye want."  
  
"Shrek's quite right, Fiona," Lillian added. She had stood and had  
taken a few steps towards the stump. "Trust me, dear. Is this  
really what you wish to recollect in the years to come when you  
remember your wedding day?"  
  
"But Mom," Fiona said, "otherwise there won't BE a wedding day!"  
  
"Perhaps not today," Lillian admitted, "but you already have your  
first wedding day to look back on. That's all most of us have,  
anyway."  
  
"But THEY won't recognize it!" Fiona said, jerking her head toward  
the witnesses, who had all started watching the proceedings at the  
stump again.  
  
"Like I said earlier, that's THEIR problem," Shrek said, looking  
over at the group with distaste. "You'll always be my beautiful  
bride. And we don't need THEIR okay t'make it so."  
  
Fiona was trembling again, but not in anger this time. A tear  
welled in one eye then trickled from its corner down her cheek.  
Fiona stared up at Dinkum, then eased her grip on his throat.  
"Please say it," she said, her tone no longer demanding but now soft  
and pleading. "Please. It means so much."  
  
"I ... I can't," Dinkum said. Then after a moment he added, "I'm  
sorry."  
  
"Fiona ... darling ..." Lillian entreated cautiously, "... I think  
that maybe you should set the nice crocodile down now, dear."  
  
Fiona sighed heavily, then nodded in resignation. "No," she said to  
Dinkum. "I'M sorry." She carefully lowered the crocodile back to  
his spot behind the stump. Dinkum coughed, rubbed his throat and  
removed the glasses that had slipped askew on his snout.  
  
Fiona climbed off of the stump, then collapsed beside it. She sat  
there, her back against the stump, her knees propped up in front of  
her. Then she buried her head in her arms, rested them against her  
knees, and started crying. Shrek knelt down beside her, put an arm  
across her shoulders and pulled her gently towards him. She rested  
her head against his chest and continued to sob. Shrek leaned down  
and softly kissed her head, then started tenderly stoking her hair.  
  
Lillian beheld her daughter and son-in-law and felt tears trickle  
down her own cheeks. Then she felt Harold slip his now large, long  
arm around her now ample waist. She looked over into his face, into  
the big expressive eyes that she could recognize and read no matter  
what sort of features they were set into.  
  
"We tried, Lilly," he said sadly, taking her broad, rough green hand  
in his own and kissing it. "We did the best we could for her."  
  
"I just wish we could do more," Lillian said.  
  
Harold looked down at his daughter and sighed. "So do I," he said.  
  
Just then Moyre stood. Her face was not sad in commiseration. It  
was angry. She strode to the log before which the witnesses stood  
and glared at them. "So!" she began. "Are ye happy now? Are ye  
satisfied? You've preserved your precious status quo. Don't ye  
just feel all superior!"  
  
"Look, lady," Skungy retorted, "YOU'RE the ones who came waltzing in  
here under false pretenses and --"  
  
"False pretenses?!" Moyre shot back. "HA! We came here for a  
wedding. For a joining of our offspring in a bond of love and  
dedication. There was nothing 'false' about that -- in fact, it is  
the truest, purest of intentions a couple could ever have! Whatever  
'pretenses' we made were but t'appease your sense of adherence to  
some arbitrary rules about purity and parentage."  
  
"But it's our tradition --" Lolly began.  
  
"Tradition be hanged!" Moyre shouted. "That tradition was born of  
xenophobic fears over magically transformed ogres with no sense of  
ogredom polluting our precious species. But this ogre --" here she  
pointed at Fiona, "this ogre's different. She was not forced to be  
a part of our species against her will as part of some punishment.  
She CHOSE t'be an ogre. You've apparently read the accounts. She  
could've chosen to remain one of the most beautiful human princess  
on the face of the earth, and have had my son remain one of the most  
handsome human men. They could be living in ease and luxury and  
wealth. But she CHOSE our species, our appearance, our way of life.  
And even though they're already married in a ceremony that's  
recognized by every other species from gnomes to giants, she simply  
wants recognition by the one species that DOESN'T sanction their  
union, the one that really matters to her, the one she chose. She's  
paying ye an honor -- paying us ALL an honor -- and ye slap her in  
the face by rejecting her."  
  
The witnesses were looking around at each other -- at least Lolly,  
Drongo and Wanker were -- with growing unease.  
  
But Skungy still stared defiantly at Moyre, his jaw still set. Then  
he said, "If you think you can change our minds by just spewing a  
little bleeding-heart hooey around --"  
  
"Bull!" Moyre cut him off. "Y'know -- Skungy, is it? -- t'be  
honest, a month ago I'd be sitting there on that log beside ye,  
thinking the same way, defending the same hokum. When I first met  
my daughter-in-law, I treated her like the interloper that I've  
since learned our 'tradition' was built to 'protect' us from. But  
ye know what? The more I learned about Fiona, the more I realized  
how much of a true ogre she is. Her attitudes, her tastes, her  
behavior, her wants and desires, her dedication, and her bravery --  
all make her more than worthy of the title 'ogress'. More so than  
me, frankly. She's no interloper. She's as true-green as they  
come. She's a credit to our species. And it's a DISCREDIT to our  
species to deny her the marriage she deserves. Good Heavens, if  
there's ANY ogre marriage worthy of recognition, it's the one  
between these two!"  
  
At some point during Moyre's discourse Fiona had stopped crying.  
She lifted her head from Shrek's chest -- leaving a black smudge on  
his shirt where a little of her nosepaint had rubbed off -- and  
stared at her mother-in-law for several seconds with gratitude.  
Then the princess's reddened eyes drifted toward the witnesses.  
Fiona really didn't want to let her hopes build up yet again ... and  
yet she couldn't help it.  
  
Skungy's jaw worked wordlessly behind his closed, frowning mouth.  
He seemed to be considering. He was about to say something when  
suddenly Groyl spoke. "You realize the irony here, Skungy?" Shrek's  
father asked as he strolled forward to stand beside Moyre. "We  
ogres take pride in our individualism, our distain for conformity,  
out distaste for rules that limit our self-expression. Yet here ye  
are defending a tradition that forces conformity and values blind  
obedience to an outdated rule over expressed wishes of two ogres  
t'be wed."  
  
"He's got a point, Skungy," Wanker said. "I mean ... how would you  
feel if you found out that, say, Lolly's father was a troll?"  
  
Skungy jerked his head toward Wanker. "He's NOT a troll!" Skungy  
shot back.  
  
"I know," Wanker said. "But I'm just saying ... what IF he were?  
Would it change how you feel about her, knowing you couldn't marry  
her?"  
  
"Marriage?!" Skungy said, a streak of nervousness undercutting his  
irritability. "Who said anything about marriage?" Then he looked  
back at Lolly. She was looking away from him and biting her lower  
lip. "Oh!" Skungy said, instantly remorseful. "Lolly, I'm sorry!  
I didn't mean --"  
  
She looked back at him and smiled meekly. "It's all right," she  
said. "But I think we get their point. What IF one of my parents  
weren't an ogre? Is that really so important?"  
  
"No ... but ... we ... our ..." Skungy stammered, confused. Then he  
looked skywards, lifted his arms to the heavens, and shouted at the  
top of his lungs, "TRA-DI-TION!"  
  
Skungy's voice echoed throughout the bog. Some startled birds in  
nearby trees flew away, and the ambient creature sounds died down  
for a few moments.  
  
Skungy dropped his gaze from the unanswering sky and looked around  
him. All eyes were trained on him in mute curiosity.  
  
Skungy shrugged and lowered his arms. Then he looked at Shrek's  
parents and scowled. "Okay," he said. "Let's suppose I were to  
agree with you -- and I'm not saying I am. Your problem is, I'M not  
the one who makes the call as to whether to perform the ceremony.  
HE is." Here Skungy pointed back towards Dinkum, who still stood  
behind the stump.  
  
All eyes turned toward Dinkum. "I'm sorry, mates," the crocodile  
apologized. "I really am, honestly. But I've taken an oath to  
enforce the rules. I don't get to make 'em. Maybe if you bring it  
up at your next Grand Council, they could modify the code to  
redefine what constitutes an acceptable marriage -- "  
  
"If ye ask me it was a mistake to muck around with the law to codify  
that tradition in the first place," Shrek commented.  
  
"'Traditions'," Fiona said with distaste. "It's tradition that  
keeps ogres from recognizing our marriage. It's tradition that  
drives humans to hound us. What GOOD are traditions, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, traditions can be a TREMENDOUS good, dear," Lillian replied.  
"Traditions help shape and define our various cultures. They help  
remind us of who we are, and help us celebrate that which makes us  
unique, whether it is for a species or for any particular national,  
ethnic, religious, or other subgroup within that species. When you  
and Shrek fell in love and wanted to live together -- you didn't  
just start sharing the same domicile, you decided to go through a  
marriage ceremony. I'm guessing that by the end of that ceremony  
you each had changed the way you viewed yourselves and each other.  
That ceremony was a tradition, and the way it changed your  
viewpoints was a demonstration of its power. Was that bad?"  
  
"No," Fiona conceded, looking up at Shrek, the memory of the  
ceremony causing her to smile. It was a smile he returned. "It was  
quite good, actually," she added.  
  
"So you see?" Lillian said. She took a deep breath, and then  
continued more pensively. "The problem comes when traditions are  
used not to celebrate commonalities and validate togetherness, but  
rather to exacerbate differences and excuse exclusion. Traditions  
are ... well, they're like fire. If used wisely, they can enlighten  
our minds and warm our spirits. If used recklessly, or as a weapon  
to justify bigotry when no rational justification can be found ...  
then innocent people can get burned."  
  
"Y'know, I've got some Wiccan friends who'd certainly agree with  
that!" Drongo suddenly injected. "In fact, I knew this one witch  
who --"  
  
"I think what my wife is trying to say," Harold interrupted, "is  
that instead of blindly adhering to a tradition for the sake of  
tradition, you should first examine it. What have you to lose by  
doing so? If the tradition is good, then you'll have a better  
appreciation of its origin and significance. If it's outdated, or  
flawed, then you'll be in a position to discard it and perhaps start  
new, better ones. True, it may require the courage of an open mind  
and the pain of a paradigm shift, but ..." here Harold looked at his  
daughter and son-in-law, smiled, and said, "... believe me, if a  
stubborn old fool like me can do it, then I'm sure anybody can."  
  
"And THIS stubborn old fool agrees!" Moyre concurred. "What IS the  
spirit behind the marriage tradition, anyway? Isn't it to celebrate  
the joining of two like spirits in a sacred union? The cementing of  
a cherished relationship that both parties enter into freely of  
their own wills as they lay the foundation of a loving family?  
Trying to get a marriage to work ... especially between a couple  
that don't conform to society's expectations ... is hard enough  
without our institutionalized prejudices holding them apart --"  
  
"WAIT! PLEASE!" Dinkum shouted in frustration. "It's not the  
'spirit' of the marriage ceremony that's the problem! It's my duty  
to enforce the LETTER of the thing. And the letter of the  
restriction says that both parties must be ogres, and both sets of  
birth parents must be ogres. That may change some day, but I'm  
sorry to say that for today that's just the way it is!"  
  
Everyone fell silent. A depressed pall fell over the clearing for  
several seconds.  
  
Then Donkey spoke. "Well ... that's what you have now, isn't it?"  
he asked.  
  
Everyone stared perplexedly at the equine.  
  
"Oh, for the love of Pete!" Shrek moaned. "Donkey haven't ye --"  
Shrek's protests were suddenly cut off as Fiona placed her hand over  
his mouth.  
  
"Go ahead, Donkey," the princess urged, a glimmer of hope in her  
voice. "Tell us what you mean."  
  
"I mean ... well, Shrek's an ogre, and you're an ogre, and his  
parents are ogres, and your parents are ogres --"  
  
"What do you mean, they're ogres?" Skungy objected. "Neither of her  
parents are ogres!"  
  
"Uh, HELLO!" Donkey retorted. "They sure look like ogres to me!  
Y'know, green skin, big stinky bods, ears that double as funnels,  
stuff like that?"  
  
"He's right!" Moyre exclaimed. "These aren't COSTUMES!" She  
enthusiastically grabbed Harold's ear to demonstrate.  
  
"OW!" Harold screamed.  
  
"See?" Moyre asked.  
  
"But they aren't NATURAL ogres!" Dinkum pointed out. "And they  
weren't ogres when their daughter was born."  
  
"So what?" Donkey asked. "They ARE her birth parents. And they ARE  
ogres. Okay, so maybe they ain't ogres twenty-four seven three  
sixty-five, but TODAY they're ogres. And SHE'S an ogre. So TODAY  
they fit your little rule -- both her and Shrek are ogres, and their  
birth parents are all ogres. So why can't ya marry them -- TODAY?"  
  
Dinkum seemed to mull Donkey's words for quite some time, his jaw  
moving around as he considered. Fiona, with assistance from Shrek,  
stood up from where she had been leaning against the stump, and  
together the newlyweds joined all the others in the clearing who  
were staring at the reptile in anticipation.  
  
The crocodile at last looked directly at Fiona and Shrek. "You two  
have memorized your vows, I assume?"  
  
The two nodded anxiously.  
  
"All right, I may need to answer for this, and it's been a terribly  
good wicket, but ... crikey, it's a shame to see you and your folks  
waste all that you all went through, even if some of it wasn't on  
the up-and-up. But your hearts seem pure enough, and you're  
certainly dedicated. Okay, join hands and face each other. Let's  
hear those vows."  
  
Fiona squealed with joy. She whirled toward Shrek, embraced his  
cheeks with her hands and kissed him hard on his lips. She then  
released him and turned towards Dinkum. "Thank you!" she bubbled.  
  
The crocodile shrugged. "Don't thank me. Thank them," he replied,  
gesturing with his snout at her family, both immediate and extended.  
  
"I plan to," she said, then turned and faced them. "Thank you!" she  
said to all of them. Then she looked specifically to her parents.  
"For all that you've done for me. For agreeing to change your very  
selves for my benefit. For speaking up for me when I needed you.  
Thank you so much!"  
  
"You're quite welcome, my child," Harold said. "I'm glad for the  
opportunity to make up a little for my past failings."  
  
"For OUR failings," Lillian said. "Plus, we're actually grateful to  
you for giving us this opportunity to see things from a little  
closer to your perspective for a while, dear. I think it will do us  
all some good, and perhaps bring us closer together."  
  
"Here here!" Harold seconded.  
  
Fiona smiled appreciatively at her parents. Then she turned to her  
in-laws. "Groyl, Moyre, what more can I say? I've known you such a  
short time, yet I already love you as family."  
  
"And we feel quite the same, Fiona," Groyl replied. "We're just  
very happy that our son was fortunate t'end up with a bride like  
you. In fact, he's likely the MOST fortunate ogre in his choice of  
mates since ... well, since me." Here Groyl winked at Moyre, who  
smiled and punched him playfully in the arm.  
  
Fiona grinned at Moyre. "Mom ... you really ARE my second mom.  
Thank you. None of this would have been possible without your  
inspiration, determination, and then in the end, your championing of  
me here. You make a wonderful advocate."  
  
Moyre shrugged. "It wasn't hard," she said. "After all, I had an  
exceptional client." The two ogresses smiled at each other, then  
Moyre said, "Go on, now. Make my son even happier ... if that's  
possible."  
  
"I plan to try," Fiona chuckled, "but first ..." She turned towards  
Donkey. "My noble and loyal friend," she said lovingly. "Once  
again you've shown bravery in coming to my defense, and wisdom in  
realizing a path through the obstacles that threatened our second  
marriage. I am even further in your debt."  
  
"Hey, Princess, don't worry about it," Donkey said shyly. "After  
all, that's just part of the duties of a noble steed, y'know?"  
  
Fiona smiled at Donkey a few seconds longer, then turned to Puss and  
Dragon. "And to you, my friends," she said, "thank you so much for  
your courage, your service, and your friendship. I am very, very  
grateful."  
  
Dragon briefly dipped her head in recognition, but Puss took off his  
hat, bowed deeply and, with a flourish, proclaimed, "It is an honor  
to be of service, Princesa. If there is anything else that you or  
your noble husband needs in the future, do not hesitate to call. I  
remain your humble and obedient servant." Dragon rolled her eyes.  
Fiona fought back a grin, and instead returned Puss's bow.  
  
Fiona then looked at the witnesses. "And thank you all for  
understanding," she said.  
  
"No problem, Princess," Lolly said. "We're all happy that we could  
find a way past the parentage restriction. Right Skungy?"  
  
Skungy mumbled something unintelligible.  
  
"I said RIGHT, Skungy?" Lolly repeated.  
  
"Sure! Right!" Skungy said irritably. Then his tone softened, and  
he added, "My ... uh ... objections were nothing personal. Good  
luck to you both ... really. Right, guys?"  
  
"Right!" Drongo and Wanker echoed.  
  
"Thank you," Fiona said.  
  
"You're welcome," Skungy said. "Okay, it's settled. We all like  
you. We really like you. Now, are you done with all your 'thank  
you's, or do we need to signal the band to start playing some  
music?" Skungy then gave a soft 'oof' as Lolly elbowed him in the  
ribs.  
  
Fiona smirked and nodded her acknowledgement to Skungy, then turned  
back to Shrek.  
  
"Hi there," her husband said with a little grin. "Remember me?  
Your old pal, Shrek?"  
  
"How could I not? You're quite unforgettable," Fiona laughed as she  
approached him. She took his hands in hers and they faced each  
other again before the stump. Dinkum had his glasses back on and  
his book was open and laying on the natural podium. As he paged  
through it, Fiona whispered coyly over to Shrek, "I'll thank YOU  
later." Shrek blushed.  
  
"All righty, then!" Dinkum said, having apparently found the page he  
was searching for. Then he started reading. "We're assembled here  
as bare witnesses -- I'm sorry," Dinkum checked himself, readjusted  
his glasses, cleared his throat, then started again. "We're  
assembled here to bear witness to the hitching of these two ogres,  
Fiona and Shrek, with the common yoke of matrimony. May this yoke  
bind them and allow them to support one another, two individuals who  
have chosen not to sacrifice their individuality but rather to share  
it and form a whole greater than the sum of it parts; a new, shared  
life as together they work toward common visions and common dreams.  
Now, as it the custom of ogres, the participants will confirm their  
love and commitment in their own words. Fiona, you may begin when  
ready."  
  
Fiona smirked as she recalled the lines she was to recite as part of  
the vows that she and Shrek had composed for each other in what he  
had insisted was classic ogre wedding style. She glanced almost  
involuntarily at her parents, and blushed. Then she cleared her  
throat, took a deep breath, looked into Shrek's smiling face, and  
began:  
  
"Your balding head  
Your bushy brow  
I see them and  
I think, 'Like, wow!'"  
  
Shrek chuckled, then recited:  
  
"Your longish ears  
Your pudgy nose  
They thrill me dear  
From head to toes."  
  
Fiona giggled, then said:  
  
"When we hug tight  
Thy portly mass  
Excites me so  
I might pass gas!"  
  
Off to the side Harold moaned and reached up to rub his temples.  
Lillian, still watching her daughter with a benevolent smile,  
elbowed him in the ribs. The king grunted almost inaudibly then  
lowered his arm and concentrated on watching his daughter, forcing a  
smile as Shrek spoke his rejoinder:  
  
"When I embrace  
Your rotund form  
You fill my arms  
And make me warm."  
  
Fiona, feeling more relaxed, responded:  
  
"Thy beastly breath  
Doth make me sway  
You ne'ertheless  
Take mine away."  
  
Shrek:  
  
"Your visage makes  
Some humans faint  
But as for me  
I think it's great!"  
  
Fiona:  
  
"Your face it breaks  
My mirrors dear  
But at your side  
I feel no fear."  
  
Shrek:  
  
"Your temper burns  
Like fire hot  
But life sans you?  
Oh, I think not!"  
  
Fiona laughed, then her face grew a little more serious. It was  
time for the last exchange, the one that meant the most. She sighed  
deeply, peered through Shrek's big brown eyes into his soul, and  
then spoke:  
  
"Together we  
Face life anew  
Forever yours  
I'll remain true."  
  
Shrek paused, lost in Fiona's own deep blue eyes. After a few  
seconds he concluded:  
  
"This wedding vow  
I take to heart  
I'm yours too, Love  
We'll never part."  
  
"Very nicely done," Dinkum said as the two ogres continued to stare  
transfixedly at each other. "And now, Shrek, the wax."  
  
"Huh?" Shrek asked, still lost in Fiona's blue heavenly eyes.  
  
"Wax. It's time for the wax," Dinkum said.  
  
"Oh!" Shrek said, dragging himself back to reality. He reached  
inside one of his ears and with a little effort pulled out a  
significant glob of earwax with a couple of hairs sticking in it.  
He handed it to Dinkum.  
  
"Excellent wad, mate!" Dinkum complimented him. Then he looked over  
to Fiona. "Your turn, Princess," he said.  
  
Fiona sighed and, trying to avoid looking at her parents, carefully  
reached into one of her own ears. A moment later she pulled out a  
decent sized glob of wax, although only about half as much as  
Shrek's. Nevertheless, Dinkum said, "Excellent!" and took it from  
her.  
  
Dinkum them took a few seconds to kneed the two wads together,  
forming one waxy mass which he sat in the middle of the stump. In  
the center of the mass he entwined one of Shrek's ear hairs with one  
of Fiona's so that he had one large earwax candle. Dinkum then  
struck a match and, as he lit the candle, said, "The lighting of  
this candle, formed from their joined bodily detritus, represents  
the joining of Fiona and Shrek and the start of their new life  
together. May their passion for living and for each other burn much  
brighter and far longer. Ogres and ogresses ... and other guests  
... it is my honor to present to you Shrek and Fiona, husband and  
wife."  
  
Fiona again squealed in joy. It was done! They had actually pulled  
it off, and they were recognized in full honesty for who they were.  
She threw herself into Shrek's arms and together they shared a long,  
hard, passionate kiss.  
  
"Aawww," all the ogres said -- all but Skungy, who simply stood,  
cross-armed, watching the couple. His face bore a stubborn tight-  
lipped expression which drew a giggle from Lolly.  
  
"Blast!" Puss said, rubbing his eyes and nose. "I think I am  
developing an allergy to this swamp grass."  
  
"Yeah, right," Donkey said understandingly, his own eyes glistening.  
"Whatever you say, Puss."  
  
Eventually the kiss broke. Shrek and Fiona stared lovingly into  
each other's eyes for a few seconds more, then Shrek clasped Fiona's  
right hand with his left one and they turned to stand side-by-side  
and face the witnesses, their family, and their friends.  
  
Harold and Lillian applauded, but soon ceased when they realized  
they were the only two doing so. All the other ogres -- Moyre and  
Groyl as well as the witnesses, even Skungy this time -- were  
reaching down and prying up clods of wet soil and mud from the  
marshy ground. Then they stood and, smiling, threw the clumps at  
the twice-newlyweds. Shrek and Fiona laughed and shielded their  
faces as their bodies and wedding clothes were pelted by the mucky  
barrage.  
  
"Well, if there isn't anything else, then are you two ready for the  
wedding suite?" Dinkum asked.  
  
"Yes!" Fiona and Shrek said together. Then they looked at each  
other, smiled deeply and blushed yet again.  
  
"Oh, Fiona, wait!" Lillian called. "One more thing!" She then  
turned to Harold and said, "Harold, give Fiona back her ring."  
  
"Ring?" Harold asked.  
  
"The one I gave you for safe keeping," Lillian explained.  
  
"Ah! Of course!" Harold said, then started feeling about his  
unfamiliar outfit. "I know I put it here somewhere ..." he mumbled.  
  
"Haroooold ..." Lillian coaxed, becoming a bit impatient and  
slightly concerned.  
  
"Yes, dear. I'm DOING it, dear," Harold returned as he continued  
searching the outfit. "Ah! Here it is!" he soon said, and pulled  
the ring out from the inside of his vest. He looked over at his  
daughter, smiled, and said, "Here you go, sweetheart," and then  
tossed it to her.  
  
Fiona watched the ring in flight. She lifted her left hand, ring  
finger extended, intending to catch the ring as she had caught it in  
the air just after it was first forged. But just before it reached  
her finger Shrek said, "Oh no ye don't!" and snatched it.  
  
"Hey!" Fiona protested. "What gives?"  
  
"I do," Shrek said. "That is, I want t'give this to ye ... properly  
this time." He then tenderly took her left hand and gently slid the  
ring onto her ring finger. Once back in place, the 'I Love You'  
inscription glowed again, briefly but brightly.  
  
Fiona stared at her ring for a few seconds, then smiled up at her  
husband. She reached up and stoked his broad right cheek with her  
left hand. "My precious," she cooed.  
  
Shrek took her hand and kissed it. Then he grinned and asked, "Are  
ye ready?"  
  
"Very much so," she said, returning the grin.  
  
"Okay then!" Shrek said, then suddenly reached down and scooped  
Fiona up into his arms as she gave a whoop of surprise and glee.  
  
"Right this way," Dinkum said, and led the newlyweds past the edge  
of the clearing to an area a few yards into the bog. There was a  
hole there roughly six feet in diameter that descended into  
darkness. A ladder poked out of that darkness at a roughly fifty  
degree angle where it lay against the hole's rim. Shrek stepped  
towards the ladder.  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Donkey stammered, startling Shrek and nearly  
causing him to drop Fiona. "Time OUT, Shrek! You call that a  
'weddin' suite'? A hole in the ground?"  
  
"We sure do, mate!" Dinkum said. "It's not just a hole in the  
ground. That's only the entrance. There's nice, humid little cave  
down there!"  
  
"A humid little cave? That's a crock!" Donkey said.  
  
Dinkum frowned at Donkey's choice of words.  
  
Donkey turned to Shrek. "Shrek, ain't we had enough of holes in the  
ground for -- like -- a LIFETIME or two? You two aren't really  
goin' down there, are ya?"  
  
"Yes, Donkey," Shrek said, his voice betraying his annoyance at  
being followed. "That's part of the nuptial ceremony. Or rather,  
the POST-nuptial ceremony." Shrek tried to use voice inflection and  
facial gestures to indicate to Donkey what he meant, but it all flew  
over the equine's head.  
  
"But ya don't wanna go down THERE!" Donkey insisted, staring down  
into the gloom. "I mean, there must be all kinda spooky, slithery,  
creepy-crawly critters down there! Things like ... like SNAKES an'  
... an' SPIDERS. I HATE spiders, Shrek! Why don'cha let me see if  
there's a vacancy over at Fairytale Falls? It's off-season now, so  
the rates are probably GREAT!"  
  
"Donkey!" Shrek said, unable to keep himself from snickering at the  
agitated animal. "We're okay. Really!"  
  
"But I don't get it, Shrek," Donkey said.  
  
"You're not supposed to," Fiona said, then grinned at her husband  
and added, "It's an ogre thing." Shrek laughed and started  
carefully stepping down the rungs of the ladder, still carrying  
Fiona in his arms.  
  
"But Shrek --" Donkey persisted.  
  
"Have Dragon pick us up here about noon tomorrow, and we'll all have  
that party back at our swamp tomorrow evening like we planned,"  
Shrek said as the newlyweds descended into the darkness. "Until  
then ... end of story. Bye-bye. See ye later!"  
  
"But Shrek --"  
  
"Good night, Donkey," Fiona's sweet voice arose from the darkness.  
  
"Well ... okay ..." Donkey said reluctantly. "But ... well, if  
ya'll see some big tall guy down there wearin' a black cloak an'  
helmet with a bad case of asthma, then you'd better --"  
  
"Good night, Donkey!" Shrek and Fiona's voices rose in unison from  
deeper in the darkness. Shortly afterwards Donkey thought he heard  
the sound of giggling.  
  
"C'mon, mate," Dinkum said. "Time to leave your cobbers alone.  
They'll be fine. Trust me. We haven't lost a couple yet!"  
  
"Ummmm ... okay, I guess," Donkey said, and grudgingly followed the  
crocodile back into the clearing.  
  
Shrek's parents and Fiona's parents were grouped together,  
chattering happily away to each other. They were apparently  
engrossed in comparing notes and telling stories about the  
challenges, adventures, and rewards of raising their respective  
offspring -- at least until each was booted out.  
  
The other ogres had also formed their own little group and were  
recounting the events of the day and the celebrity marriage they had  
witnessed -- one which Donkey hoped would last.  
  
"Incredible," Skungy was saying. "He actually fell in love with her  
when she was human."  
  
"Is that so hard to believe?" Lolly asked. "After all, SOME ogres  
are able to look PAST appearances and love the person inside."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Skungy asked. "Are you talking about  
ME?"  
  
Lolly looked down and shrugged. She remained sullenly silent for  
quite some time.  
  
"Are you all right, Lol?" Drongo asked.  
  
"Yeah. Why so quiet so sudden?" Wanker added.  
  
Lolly shrugged again, then looked up at Skungy and said, "Well ...  
you didn't seem so interested before I gained that weight. Before I  
left ... when I was thinner ... you treated me okay, but not with as  
much attention as today."  
  
"What?!" Skungy gasped. "Lolly! I ... always felt ... this way  
about you. Maybe before I didn't realize how much you meant ... I  
mean, we've been apart so long while you were in the countryside ...  
Lolly, I've always felt the same way! I ... I love you, Lol."  
  
"Really?" she asked, looking into his eyes.  
  
"Absolutely!" Skungy said.  
  
"So ... it's not just the weight gain? You love me just as I am?  
Even if I were to be thinner?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Because -- well, to be honest, I haven't been vacationing in the  
countryside. I've been at a fat farm, trying to grow bigger because  
... well, I thought you'd like me more if I looked more appealing."  
  
"What?!" Skungy gasped. "Lolly, you don't need to do that! I love  
you for you! It doesn't matter if you weigh a robust four hundred  
pounds or a skimpy three hundred!"  
  
"Are you sure? Because, to be honest, I don't like having to eat  
five full meals a day to maintain this size. I know it's odd for an  
ogress but ... well, I LIKE being thinner. It's just more me. I  
know that sounds weird. I ... hope that doesn't disappoint you."  
  
"Lolly, that's not a problem at all!" Skungy insisted.  
  
"And my hair," she continued. "I don't like pouring that goop on it  
to keep down the luster, either. It's really a pain. It feels so  
much better when I let it go natural, even if it does have a ...  
natural sheen. I know that's another nonconformity. I'm sorry. I  
don't want to embarrass you --"  
  
"Embarrass me?!" Skungy said. "You? Hardly! Lolly, I love YOU.  
Who CARES what others think? I don't mind what you weigh, and as  
far as I'm concerned you hair can glow like a fairy in heat!"  
  
Lolly giggled. Her laughter came to a sudden halt, however, when  
Skungy knelt on one knee. "Lolly," he said, "would you do me the  
honor of marrying me?"  
  
Lolly's jaw dropped. Then a smile bubbled onto her face. "The  
honor ... would be MINE!" she said. "But ... are you sure you want  
to ask me now?"  
  
"Of course!" Skungy replied, rising to his feet. "I don't want to  
take a chance on losing my Lolly!" He then took Lolly into his arms  
for a long, passionate kiss of their own.  
  
"Good job, mate!" Wanker said, and pounded Skungy on the back.  
  
"Darn right! Congratulations, you two!" Drongo added.  
  
The kiss eventually ended. Lolly and Skungy smiled at each other,  
then Skungy looked over to the stump to see Dinkum packing away his  
book and glasses. "Hey, Dinkum!" Skungy called. "We need to speak  
with you ... about arranging another marriage!"  
  
Dinkum looked at Skungy and Lolly, then laughed and said, "Well!  
It's about time, mate!"  
  
Lolly laughed as well and the four ogres headed over to where Dinkum  
stood waiting.  
  
"As the French say, 'Ah, l'amour', eh amigo?" Puss commented.  
  
Donkey looked over, startled by the cat's sudden appearance at his  
side. "What's that ya say, man?" he asked.  
  
"It seems that our newlyweds' fever is contagious," Puss explained,  
nodding over to where Skungy and Lolly were in deep in conversation  
with Dinkum, large smiles plastered on the ogres' faces. "Speaking  
of which, where is our happy couple now?"  
  
"Oh, they dropped down a hole," Donkey said.  
  
"Pardon?" Puss asked, confused.  
  
"They checked into a cave for the rest of the evening," Donkey  
explained. "It's 'an ogre thing'."  
  
"Ah! Of course," Puss said. "Don't look so critical, Donkey! I,  
myself, was conceived in a back alley between an overturned orange  
crate and --"  
  
"Hey, man, do we gotta go there?" Donkey asked, then looked up at  
Dragon. "You set ta go, babe? We'll come back an' pick up Fiona  
and Shrek tomorrow 'round noon."  
  
Dragon smiled and nodded.  
  
"Good!" Donkey said. "Now we just gotta wait for Fiona's parents  
an' --"  
  
"We're right here, Donkey," Lillian said from behind Donkey.  
  
"Oh!" Donkey said, turning around to see the king and queen standing  
together, still looking so strange in their ogre bodies. "Um, are  
you ready to go, Your Majesties? We can take ya right to your  
castle --"  
  
"Actually," Lillian said, "if you don't mind Donkey ... um ..."  
  
The queen blushed and looked shyly over to Harold, a little grin on  
her face. The king continued, "What Lilly is trying to say, is ...  
while the two of us are back in a ... compatible form ... well,  
there is a nice private chateau by a pleasant little lake resort we  
enjoyed when we were younger ... and the lily pads should be in  
bloom there ..." Harold looked at Lillian, who was still grinning  
meekly at him. He grinned back.  
  
"What did I tell you, Donkey?" Puss whispered slyly. "A sweet  
contagion, no?"  
  
Donkey smirked down at Puss, then smiled up at the king and queen.  
"Say no more, your Majesties! Dragon can drop you off anywhere ya  
want ta go. Can't ya, babe?" Donkey asked the last question while  
turning to look up at his lifemate.  
  
Instead of simply nodding, Dragon looked at Donkey and made some  
mournful sounds as if she were talking.  
  
"Say what?" Donkey asked, his smile vanishing.  
  
Dragon made some more sounds.  
  
"Oh. Okay, then. Sure, babe. Uh, no problem," Donkey stammered  
sullenly. If it were possible for a donkey to blanch, Donkey did so  
at that moment.  
  
"What's the matter, compadre?" Puss asked, concerned.  
  
"Well, after all this transportin's done and we finish with the  
party and everything tomorrow, Dragon wants her and me and the kids  
ta pack up and take a trip," Donkey replied.  
  
"Really?" Puss said. "Where to?"  
  
"The land where she was hatched," Donkey answered. He gulped, then  
added, "She wants me to meet MY in-laws!"  
  



	16. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
Some time later Shrek and Fiona were lying beside each other on the  
damp earth of the cave floor. Shrek rested on his back, his  
breathing slow and content. Fiona was on her stomach at a slight  
angle to Shrek's right side and nestled against him. Her chin sat  
on her cupped left hand which in turn rested on the right side of  
his bare chest just below his shoulder. Shrek gently stroked her  
hair as Fiona languidly traced little haphazard patterns across the  
hairy middle expanse of his chest with her right index finger. They  
were still surrounded by darkness, and so neither noticed that much  
of Fiona's black and blue makeup was now smeared across Shrek's face  
and elsewhere.  
  
As Shrek's hand wove its way through Fiona's ungainly locks, he  
asked in a low voice, "Fiona?"  
  
"Yes, Shrek?"  
  
"Ye did say you were going t'grow your hair back like it was before,  
didn't ye?"  
  
Fiona smiled in the blackness. "Oh, I don't know," she teased.  
"I'm kinda getting used to this ograrian style. Don't you like it?"  
  
"I liked it better they way ye used t'wear it," he said. "Like I  
told ye b'fore, that was you."  
  
Fiona thought for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'll grow it back.  
But on one condition."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
After a short pause, Fiona replied, "That you braid it every so  
often. Like you did that day your parents came to visit. That was  
... nice."  
  
Fiona could hear the smile in Shrek's voice as he said simply, "As  
ye wish."  
  
Fiona smiled again as she continued tracing patterns. Then she grew  
more pensive. Shrek apparently sensed it, and asked, "What is it,  
Fi?"  
  
"Well," she said, "Shrek, I've been thinking ..."  
  
"A dangerous pastime," he teased.  
  
"I know," She smirked. "But ... well, I was thinking about ... our  
children."  
  
"Children?" Shrek echoed, his voice a little tighter.  
  
"Our EVENTUAL children," Fiona clarified.  
  
"Oh!" Shrek said, and breathed a little easier. "Well, no need  
t'worry now! They'll be fully recognized as one-hundred percent  
authentic ogres."  
  
"If they ARE ogres," Fiona said quietly.  
  
"Huh?" Shrek grunted.  
  
"I mean ... with my background ..." Fiona tried to explain "...  
being born under that enchantment ... and both my parents being human  
when I was conceived and all ... plus what with frog DNA being tossed  
into the mix ... I mean, who knows what THAT will cause? I remember  
hearing about an island where --"  
  
"Whoa!" Shrek said gently, interrupting Fiona's increasingly nervous  
rambling. "What's bothering ye, Fi? Just spit it out."  
  
"Well," she replied, "I'm just worried that --" as Fiona continued  
drawing patterns on Shrek's chest her finger chanced upon a large  
centipede that was crawling among his chest hair. Fiona took a  
moment to pluck it off his chest and munch it down before  
continuing, "I'm just worried that our children ... well, what if  
they're not ogres?"  
  
Shrek was silent for several seconds, then said, "So? What if  
they're not?"  
  
"Back during the dinner the day you met my parents, you sounded  
pretty adamant that you wanted our children to be ogres," Fiona  
pointed out.  
  
"I assume they will be. And I'd prefer it, t'be honest," he  
admitted. "But if they're not, they're not. We'll love 'em just  
the same. Do ye think Donkey or Dragon loves their kids any the  
less for their ... uniqueness?"  
  
"No, not at all. They seem to adore them."  
  
"The same here. What's important, Fi, is that they'll be OUR  
children. Anything that's a part of you I'll adore and cherish,  
just as I adore and cherish you."  
  
"Really?" she asked.  
  
"Really, really," he assured her, his voice honest and strong.  
  
Fiona felt relief rush through her. "I love you, Shrek," she said.  
  
"I love you, too," he responded. Then a smile spread across his  
face and he said, "If nothing else, though, there is ONE ogre trait  
that I hope our children will inherit."  
  
"What's that?" Fiona asked.  
  
"Our incredible stamina!" Shrek replied, and rolled towards his wife.  
  
Fiona giggled happily.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Shrek snapped at her nose. She nipped at his ear. They clawed  
their way into each other's arms. Like fire and smoke, these two  
belonged together." -- From "Shrek!" by William Steig  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
-- THE END --  
  



End file.
